We're Connected
by Phoenixhp5
Summary: Harley Keener is 15 and has just gone through a horrific tragedy. He ends up in Tony's care, and the two struggle to connect. Harley is suffering and Tony is clueless at how to help. This fic will explore their developing father/son relationship. Not compliant with Infinity War and Endgame.
1. Chapter 1

**We're Connected**

**A/N: Hey all! This story is set after Homecoming and I don't plan on getting into Infinity War, Endgame, or Far From Home. The story revolves mostly around Harley Keener (from IM3) and Tony, but Peter will be involved. Harley is 15 now and has been in contact with Tony over the years through email and phone. Tony never offered Peter an Avengers position, but he did set it up for him to come and work in the lab with him a couple times a week. May knows about Peter being spider man. Last thing, Avengers tower wasn't sold, just changed back to Stark tower. **

**Note: I am not familiar with the foster system. I have spoken with students who are a part of it, and their experiences have been negative. However, I am aware that the system is not always negative and I don't want to imply that it is. For this story, though, the foster system fails Harley. **

**Chapter 1: What the hell are you doing here?!**

**Harley's POV:**

I let out a sigh, looking around me in disdain. New York City was worse than I'd imagined. It was too big, too loud, too dirty, too crowded, and just plain chaotic. Not to mention everybody was rude, I thought with a grimace, ignoring another disgusted look from some well-off schmuck who thought they were better than me.

I trudged through the busy streets, holding tight to my backpack as I attempted to avoid bumping into anyone. My shoulder still ached from the fight I'd gotten into three days ago, and I already had enough bruises from previous scraps.

Not that anybody seemed to care, I thought darkly, recalling nothing but the judgmental stares of passer byers.

My stomach growled, but I ignored it with practiced ease. I'd long since run out of money, but I was close. I was almost there, and once I got there, everything would be okay.

_Everything would be okay._

It had to be.

I was exhausted, hungry, sore, and cold, and I just wanted to rest. I'd been on the streets for nearly a month, and I was desperate. That was the only reason I was here. I had no one else to turn to.

No one.

My mother and sister died two months ago from a home invasion gone wrong. They'd been after my stuff, _my lab_, but I'd been out at the junk yard, which was the only reason I was alive. My family was dead because of me.

I lasted a month in the foster care system, and managed to be bounced between three different homes, each with their own wretched issues. Drunken, dead beat foster parents, bullying foster siblings, uncaring foster families, or worst of all, the very caring and very _loving_ foster mother (I shuddered). I couldn't stand it, so I'd left and never looked back. I could raise myself better than any of them could.

I'd been on the streets of random cities in Tennessee for three weeks dodging cops and scary people before I decided I couldn't continue this on my own.

I'm smart, like super genius smart, but living on the streets by yourself is _hard_. Not to mention I'm small for my age and look younger than my fifteen years. The number of pedophiles I'd dodged or fought off was more than I wanted to admit. Then, I had a mouth I couldn't seem to keep shut because it continuously got me into trouble. Thank god I'd had the home-made gun I'd manufactured just after my family was killed. I hadn't had to actually shoot anyone yet, but I had threatened a few.

I looked up, heart beginning to pound as I realized I'd finally arrived. My legs felt shaky, and I let out a trembling breath. I'm here. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here!

Stark Tower.

Formerly known as Avengers Tower.

Changed because those rat bastard Avengers betrayed Tony. I couldn't believe I'd ever looked up to Captain America, the fraud. He betrayed Tony before beating the shit out of him. I'd never forgive him for that.

I forced these thoughts out of my head as I stared at my destination. Big fancy building with his name plastered all over it. Tony never changes, I thought with some amusement. Flashy and gaudy, but secretly a big softy.

I wondered how he was doing. I hadn't been in contact with him since shortly before my family was killed. We'd kept in contact pretty regularly since his unplanned vacation in Rosehill, and it'd been nice having someone to talk to. It'd been nice having someone that listened to me, and who I could geek out with. Not to mention, having Tony Stark to bounce ideas off was freaking amazing.

When I'd been hauled off to the foster home I'd lost my means of contacting him. I'd never thought to memorize his or Pepper's private numbers, and I knew I'd never let such a simple thing happen again. There were so many times that I wished I could've called Tony, if even just to hear some real sympathy, but I'd been unable to. I'd attempted calling his company, but the countless secretaries had refused to forward my call or even deliver a stinking message.

I looked at the entrance, mulling over how I was going to get a hold of Tony. I had no phone or access to internet, and he certainly wasn't expecting me. Hell, I didn't even know if he was here. Well, if he wasn't, then hopefully Pepper was. She knew me, and I knew she wouldn't turn me away.

Again, though, how to convince someone to tell Tony or Pepper that I was here. Looking down at my dirty, raggedy clothes, I doubted I'd even be let into the building. No way would someone believe that I actually knew Tony Stark and Pepper Potts when I looked like a homeless kid; which, technically I was.

Whatever. Standing here and overthinking won't get me anywhere. Maybe if I make a big scene, then I can get his attention…or get arrested. I snorted internally. What more did I have to lose?

My freedom.

Shut up, I told myself. Man up, Keener.

Nodding, I held my head up with confidence as I walked into the fancy building. Security immediately zeroed in on me, but I ignored them as I headed towards the receptionist. I could already feel eyes on me, stupid rich people no doubt wondering what some homeless kid was doing inside their precious sanctum.

"I need you to tell Tony Stark that Harley Keener is here to see him, please," I demanded the second I reached the receptionist's desk. The elderly man frowned, eyeing me up and down before flicking his eyes behind me. Really? Not even a verbal response?

"Hey!" I snapped angrily, before taking a deep breath to quell my rising temper. "_Please_ contact Tony Stark," I asked in a strained voice. "I swear he knows who I am. Just tell him or Pepper that Harley Keener is here. They know me."

"Young man," someone called, placing a hand on my shoulder, "why don't you come with me?"

I flinched at the touch, turning to glare at the security guard. Her eyes seemed sympathetic, but I could also tell she wasn't here to help. Holding a hand out to keep her away, I did the best I could to keep composed. Being loud or out of control like some needy kid wouldn't help.

"Ma'am," I stated with wide, pleading eyes, "Please, you need to believe me. I-I know how I look, okay, and I know it sounds impossible that I could know _the_ Tony Stark, but I swear I do. Just-just, call or-or page him, or call Pepper, or ask his, uh, his AI….um, Friday! Ask Friday!" I announced, cursing myself for having forgotten the newer AI. I'd barely ever spoken with her, but Tony had told me about her and how Jarvis, his previous AI had been incorporated into the android, Vision.

I honestly missed Jarvis. Up until his…_death _he and I had spoken rather regularly with each other as he'd been programmed into my home lab by Tony. I'd known immediately when he'd vanished because one day I'd arrived and been greeted by no one. It'd been awful, and I'd freaked, contacting Tony immediately. It took several days for him to respond, unfortunately, which freaked me out even more. He eventually called me back, filling me in on the Ultron fiasco and what happened to Jarvis. He then offered to install Friday or even give me my own AI, but I couldn't stomach getting attached and losing one again, so I'd declined. I wished now I'd taken him up on the offer.

"Sweetheart, please just come with me and I can get you some help," the security guard spoke kindly, reaching a hand out towards me again. People were crowding around, and three more security guards were quickly approaching.

Looking around widely, I began to search for a way to leave. I'd find another way to contact Tony. Clearly, this had been a stupid idea, and now I was in danger of being arrested and thrown back into foster care. I couldn't let that happen. I'd be safer on my own.

Shoving my way through the crowd of busy bodies, I bolted for the outside, agilely side stepping and ducking under the feeble attempts of security to catch me. Once outside, I just ran until my legs gave out from exhaustion.

Looking up at the darkening sky, I cursed aloud, knowing I'd have to find somewhere to spend the night. I was too tired to make my way back to where I'd crashed last night, so I headed into an empty alleyway. Hunger pangs hit as the alluring scent of Chinese food hit me, and I licked my chapped lips as I headed to the dumpster.

Weeks on the streets had stripped me of any disgust with searching through trash for food. Although totally unsanitary, it was better than starving to death, so I called it success when I scrounged up some noodles in a to-go box. I scarfed it down before settling myself down on the ground. Pulling my sweater tight, I wrapped my arms around my backpack, my hand inside it and tightly wrapped around my gun. Lying my head down, I attempted to get some rest.

A loud bang and then a curse brought me to consciousness, and before I even regained my wits, I had my gun out and pointed in the direction of the noise.

"Woah, hang on there," a young voice called, but I only tightened my grip as the figure came into the light.

"Spider-man?" I called out in disbelief, staring wide-eyed at the blue and red spandexed hero. A flicker of hope sparked in me.

"Yup, that's me," the hero replied good naturedly. "So, why don't you put down that gun, cuz I swear I'm not gonna hurt you."

I lowered my arm, dropping the gun into my backpack as I pushed myself to my feet. Surveying the hero, inspiration struck. He knew Tony. Tony had told me all about recruiting him for help in Germany, and how he'd made him his suit. He told me about some of the exploits he'd been involved in, most notably being the vulture incident not too long ago. He'd told me almost everything except his real identity. Judging from how often Tony talked about his new intern Peter Parker, though, I had a feeling the two were one. Like I said, I'm a genius.

"Hey, uh, I know you don't know me, but I need you to get a message to Tony Stark for me," I spoke quickly, once more forcing my voice to be calm and collected. He needed to know that I was being serious and honest.

"I know it sounds crazy, but he knows me. Tell him that Harley Keener is"—

"_You're_ Harley Keener?" Spider-man interrupted, and I stared at him in shock.

"You know who I am?" I asked in bewilderment.

"Yeah, of course I do!" he replied animatedly. "Mr. Stark has told me about you and some of the projects you've been working on, but never mind that. Are you alright? What're you doing here? Don't you live in Tennessee?"

I forced away my continued shock at how much this guy knew about me, focusing instead on the relief that I'd finally get to see Tony. Once I saw Tony everything would be okay. A large part of me knew the irrationality of these thoughts, but I chose instead to allow myself to be absorbed in the childish notion that the only adult I trusted could solve my problems.

"Can you take me to him or tell him I'm here?" I spoke desperately, ignoring his previous questions. "Please," I added on, my calm and collected façade starting to crack.

"Uh, yeah, of course. Just hold on," Spider-man stated.

"Karen, contact Mr. Stark," he ordered, and I looked around in confusion, wondering who in the world he was talking to.

I barely heard the response of a female and realized that he must have an AI installed in the suit. His own personal AI. Tony hadn't told me about that.

I heard Spider-man begin to speak with Tony, but I didn't bother focusing on what he was saying, the utter relief at finally getting in contact with him hitting me hard. Soon, I assured myself. Soon, everything would be fine. Soon, everything would be fixed, and I wouldn't have to run and hide anymore.

Taking several calming breaths to keep from falling apart like some kid, I focused again on the conversation in front of me.

"I can carry him no problem," Spider-man spoke with assurance, pausing briefly before nodding his head. "Yeah, that's right, he might not like that."

"Carry me or whatever's fastest," I stated, really not caring how I reached Tony, just that I'd get to him. Spider-man looked at me with those big, white eyes, informing Tony of what I said.

"Okay, we'll be there soon," he said before ending the call.

"So, the quickest way to Stark Tower will be if I carry you and swing there," he explained. "Is that alright with you, or would you prefer to take a car?"

The thought of being carried caused me only the briefest moments of embarrassment, my need to see Tony strongly overpowering it.

"Just carry me," I declared, pulling my backpack on as I approached him. I wrapped my arms around him as he wrapped one of his around my waist. He pulled me tight towards himself before shooting off one of his webs.

"Let me know if you want me to stop," he informed me before promptly taking off.

I sucked in a startled breath as we were pulled up, before stifling a scream of pain from my shoulder injury as we began to swing quickly through the brightly lit city. Any other time in my life this would've been one of the coolest moments in my life. I could already think of tons of questions I wanted to ask the web slinger, but I couldn't really bring myself to care enough to ask. Aside from adrenaline, I really felt no exhilaration or even fear at the astounding heights we were at. I simply stared impassively, my focus turning towards the quickly looming Stark Tower.

"Hang on," Spider-man spoke once we landed on the side of the tower, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and legs around his torso as he literally ran up the side. In under a minute, he agilely hopped onto a large balcony before gently setting me on my feet.

"Harley?" a voice I knew so well called out, and before I'd even acclimated to really being on stable ground again, I stumbled in the direction of the voice before throwing my arms around the one it belonged to.

"_Tony_," was all I managed to utter, before burying my face in the crook of his neck. This was the first time we'd been face to face in years, but that didn't matter to me. This man was the only person in the world I had left that I could trust. He was the only one that could make things better. He was the only one that could fix me.

Arms slowly wrapped themselves around me, tightening when I felt my legs begin to give out. My adrenaline had finally run out, exhaustion hitting me hard now that I finally felt safe. It'd been two months. Two long, miserable months since I'd felt safe.

I felt myself being guided inside, and I knew Tony was talking, but I found it hard to make out what he was saying. My senses were quickly dulling, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. My shoulder felt like it was on fire, and I found my grip loosening before I finally fell unconscious.

**Tony's POV:**

"Shit!" I cried out in shock as the teen in my arms went completely limp.

What the hell is going on?!

"Harley! Harley, bud, come on wake up," I called, giving the kid a mild shake, which only elicited a groan. Eyes quickly scanning for injuries, I felt sick at seeing bruises and abrasions. Nothing looked critical, but I wasn't going to take a chance.

"Pete, help me get him to the car. He needs a hospital _now_," I ordered, forcing myself to remain levelheaded. I had no clue what the hell was going on, but I knew something was terribly wrong.

Peter rushed forward, immediately taking most Harley's weight off of me. Getting into the elevator and down to my private garage, I wondered what the hell could have happened to Harley, and why Peter had found him sleeping in an alley way.

Glancing at him, I took in the filthy, worn clothing, the greasy-matted hair, and the dirty skin. He looked like a homeless person, and I couldn't fathom why. Why was he living on the streets? Why was he in New York, and why hadn't I heard from him in two months? Granted, I hadn't reached out, but something was obviously very wrong, and the kid had to know that I'd have helped him out.

Rushing towards my car, I helped settle Harley into the backseat, before speeding towards the nearest hospital. I cursed my decision to not have a full-time clinic at Stark Towers. Pepper had said it was an unnecessary cost as injuries were rare at our company.

"The only people who'd need it," Pepper had said, "would be you and Peter."

"That sounds like reason enough to me," I countered.

"You've managed just fine with Peter's minor injuries until now," Pepper argued rationally. "It just doesn't make sense to have a full-time staff 24/7 for two people. New York's hospitals are perfectly capable of taking care of anything you can't, as is the medical staff at the Avengers compound."

"But Peter can't go to a hospital because of his secret identity," I'd continued to argue. "And, they wouldn't know how to deal with his enhancements anyway."

"But the compound could, and with our jet, it'd take minutes to get there."

The argument had ended there. I recognized the truth of her argument, but glancing at the pale, scrawny, unconscious boy behind me, I couldn't help but wish I'd argued harder. Who knew what could be wrong with him? Was he just exhausted? Was he sick? Was he injured?

Arriving at the hospital took an agonizing twenty minutes, even with my driving. I should've just had Pete swing him, but what if he was injured? Dammit, why didn't I have Peter check him over before swinging to the tower? It should've been obvious that something was wrong with Harls for him to be sleeping in a freaking alley.

Pulling up to the curb, I rushed in to retrieve a nurse and stretcher. Once they had Harley in their capable hands, things only became more confusing.

Physically, the teen would be fine. He was severely dehydrated, malnourished and was covered in bruises in all varying degrees of healing. Oh, and then there was his shoulder where it looked like he'd torn a muscle. Thankfully, there were no broken bones and no signs of sexual abuse. His physical state definitely confirmed that Harley had been living on the streets, but not why. That information came after I'd tried to contact his mother.

After checking Harley in, the hospital had wanted me to get in contact with his mom, so I'd called her only to find out she was dead along with Harley's sister. They'd been killed in a home invasion _two months ago_. Rigid with shock, I'd immediately had Friday pull up everything on Harley the second I'd hung up the phone.

Reading through the police report, my heart ached at the scene Harley had walked in on. He'd been the one to find the bodies. He said the robbers had clearly come for his lab supplies as that's where the most stuff was missing from. The lab supplies I'd given him.

I sped read through the rest of the report, gritting my teeth in frustration at how no suspects had been found. Notes were made on Harley's stoic reactions, and my mind flashed back to my own youth when I'd discovered my parents were dead.

Looking through more data provided by Friday, I found his social services file listing the three different foster homes he'd been to in the span of a month. There were notes that labeled Harley as hostile, antagonistic, and unagreeable. He was a flight risk, it was mentioned, and I couldn't help but agree as it was stated he'd run away from his third home and hadn't been seen in a month.

_A month! A whole goddamn month!_ The kid had been on the streets for an entire month, and I had no idea. He'd been orphaned for two months and I hadn't known. He'd been suffering through all of this by himself, but why? Why hadn't he contacted me? Why did he wait two months before trying to get a hold of me?

So many more questions began to hit me. Why had he left those foster homes? What had he felt was horrible enough to prefer homelessness? What had he been through on the streets? How had he managed to travel here all the way from Tennessee with no money?

The most pertinent question, though: What the hell was I going to do?!

The hospital was now aware of his situation, and I knew social services has already been called. Harley ran from the system for a reason, and I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. I didn't know what Harley wanted or needed right now, but I wasn't going to let him be taken away. He hadn't yet gained consciousness, but I immediately set about trying to gain emergency temporary guardianship. This wouldn't solve everything, but it would at least allow the kid to stay with me until I figured out what the hell was wrong.

Contacting my lawyers, I demanded they have paperwork at the hospital within the hour, before informing the doctors that Harley was under my guardianship so social services would stay away from Harley. My next call went to Pepper, who like me was notably horrified.

"Bring him home," she demanded, looking grief-stricken. "We're not leaving him on his own." Pepper and Harley had never met in person, but they'd spoken on the phone often. The first time had been when I'd been using Harley as an excuse to miss a board meeting. She'd taken the phone, and the two had hit it off. Instead of _me_ missing the meeting, it'd been _Pepper_, the CEO who'd missed. According to my lovely fiancé, the kid had needed some motherly loving after having had a rough day at school.

"Of course not," I quickly agreed. "I've already filed for guardianship, and I'll bring him home as soon as I can."

"How did we not know any of this?" she then lamented. "I know we've been busy, but how could we have allowed this to happen?"

I ran a hand through my hair before giving a dejected, "I don't know." Guilt surged through me at the obvious suffering the young teen had endured and the fact that I'd had no idea. It was my fault this had happened because I hadn't attempted to get in contact with him. I'd been so caught up with Peter and the Accords that I'd neglected him. He'd needed me and I hadn't been there.

I ended the call with Pepper before texting Peter a brief update on what was happening. The hero had been extremely concerned and confused over everything, but I'd sent him home the second we'd arrived.

I walked into Harley's room and pulled a chair up right next to his bed. He'd grown since we'd last seen each other, but I shouldn't have been surprised as it'd been almost four years since we'd been face to face. Despite that fact, it hadn't stopped me from growing to care for the brat.

At first, I'd remained in contact out of gratefulness for his help, and because I recognized his genius. I took on the role of a mentor, for his academics, at least, making sure he had supplies for whatever projects he was working on while also making sure he didn't accidentally blow himself up. As time went on, I also became a confidante, listening to his hurt over being bullied, and his concerns over his mother's growing alcoholism. I'd offered my help in both instances, but he'd declined, insisting that being a sympathetic ear was all the help he needed.

I'd thought multiple times of having the young genius come visit, but there was always something going on. Hydra, Ultron, the breakup with Pepper, the Accords, and then Spider man. Still, though, despite all that I could've found time. I knew Harley led a rough life, and I should've made more of an effort to check up on him. I was busy, but I managed to make plenty of time for Peter, so why hadn't I done the same for Harley?

Staring intently at the too-skinny youth, my heart seemed to swell with emotion. The usually animated, smart-mouthed kid was unnaturally still and clearly miserable. Even in his sleep he wore a frown, and I swore there were stress lines on his brow.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, placing a gentle hand on Harley's head. His hair was longer than he usually had it, accentuating his curls. It was dark and gritty with dirt, and I ran a hand through it a few times in a dismal attempt to clean it.

"I swear, Harley, I'll do whatever I can to help you," I promised. "I don't know what you need, but I won't leave you alone in this."

**A/N:** So, first chapter done. Not my best work, but I'd like to gauge your interest levels. I have several ideas in mind, but no ending planned yet. As I said before, Peter will be involved, but not a main character. This story is meant to focus mostly on Harley and Tony's relationship. Also, there won't be any Harley/Peter romance. Please review and let me know your thoughts!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: You're staying with me**

**Harley's POV:**

_I let out a loud sigh as I parked my bike, glad to be home. Carrying what I'd found at the junkyard I walked towards my lab only to pause when I saw the door ajar. Temper building because I figured my sister had broken in again, I marched on in only to freeze when I saw the state of the place. It'd been ransacked. I'd been robbed!_

_ Swearing furiously, I ran around cursing fervently every time I noticed what was missing. Whoever had robbed me had taken almost everything of value, breaking what couldn't be lifted or what they couldn't figure out. Gripping my hair tightly, I immediately thought of calling Tony, but realized that I'd left my phone in here earlier, which meant it'd been stolen as well. _

_ Goddammit! _

_ As I took in several calming breaths, a sudden realization hit me. Mom. Ana. Oh my god!_

_ Bolting out of the trashed lab, I headed to my house, freezing once more when I noticed the front door was wide open. Stomach twisting painfully, I took in a huge breath before steeling my nerves. _

_ "Mom? Ana?" I called out, unsure of what sort of response I wanted. Lights were on, but what did that mean? _

_ Slowly making my way through my house, my heart sank as I took in broken glass and opened drawers. The robbers had come in here too. _

_ Oh god. _

_ "Mom!" I called out louder, now sprinting through the small house. "Ana! Where are—" _

_ The words died in my throat as I attempted to comprehend the sight in front of me. _

_ No._

_ No._

_ NO!_

_ I dropped to my knees, breaths coming in gasps as I tentatively reached out a hand towards my sister. My little, innocent, baby sister. My sister who I should've protected. My sister who wasn't moving. Who wasn't breathing._

_ Bile built up in my mouth, but I swallowed it back as I turned to look at my mother. Reaching out again, I felt the same cold, stillness I had with Ana. Dead. She was dead. She and Ana were dead._

_ My breaths began to quicken, and I knew I was seconds from panicking. Looking down, I noticed my jeans soaking up blood…the blood of my family. Looking at my hands, I noticed they too were covered in blood. My mom's blood. My sister's blood. _

_ A roar of pain and horror echoed all around me, breaking the silence, and it took me only moments to realize the sound was coming from me. I screamed. I screamed and I screamed and I screamed._

"Harley, wake up! Wake up! Come on, it's just a dream, kiddo," a voice repeated over and over as I sat up with a loud gasp. Hands steadied me as I looked wildly around me.

"Tony," I choked out, attempting to get my breathing under control. Images of my dead family flashed through my mind, and I felt the tears begin to well up in my eyes.

The older man let out a sigh, looking both relieved and worried as he nodded his head.

"Yeah, bud, it's me," he said, one hand on my uninjured shoulder keeping me steady.

"Just take some deep breaths for me," he directed, and I did as he said, my frantic heartbeat beginning to slow. I fought back the tears as my eyes flickered from one side of the room to the other, taking in my surroundings. I was in a hospital, I realized, watching a doctor walk in, Pepper closely behind.

Calm down, I told myself, calm down. Keep it together. Focus on the present. Don't think about what happened.

Tony released his hold of me as the doctor checked me over. I absentmindedly answered her questions, my focus on Tony who kept staring at me with those unreadable dark eyes of his. I hated it when he stared like that because I never knew what he was thinking. Was he upset with me? Was he worried?

He must've noticed something in my expression because the unreadable look vanished, his eyes seeming to soften as I saw concern enter them. I found my muscles relaxing, and let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding in.

Okay, so he's not mad. Just play it cool, Keener. Act natural. Act like nothing is wrong.

"Can we take him home with us today?" I heard Pepper ask, and I immediately pulled my attention away from Tony. Go home with them? Did they know what happened? Had social services been contacted? Was I going to be taken away?

"Yes, he's good to go home with you. Just remember to follow this feeding regiment, and to take care of that shoulder. I'll want to see him back here in a week just to check in," the doctor explained, a few more pleasantries being exchanged before she left.

"What's going on?" I asked immediately. "Do you know about…I don't want to go back to…I can go home with you?" I finally settled for saying, my voice coming out smaller and more pathetic than I intended it to.

"You're coming home with us," Tony answered. "I've gotten temporary guardianship until we can figure things out. I know what happened to your family, Harls, and I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am," he spoke genuinely.

"It's fine," I automatically replied, even though that was far from the truth. I was just relieved that I'd be going home with him. I didn't know how I felt about temporary guardianship, but then again I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting from Tony. At least I wasn't going back to foster care right now. I wasn't alone anymore. Tony would be able to make everything better. He wouldn't send me back to Tennessee, right?

"No, it isn't, but we can talk about that later," Tony replied kindly. "Let's just focus on getting you healed, alright?"  
"Sure," I responded softly, giving him a small smile that he returned. Turning towards Pepper, I gave her a wider smile before saying, "Wow, you're even more beautiful in person than I thought. How'd Tony manage to ensnare you?"

"Keener!" Tony snapped in exasperation, looking very much like he'd like to smack me. Pepper, however, showed only a second of shock before bursting into laughter. I felt the first flicker of happiness I'd had in a long time at the laugh.

Covering her mouth, Pepper shook her head before remarking, "Tony, I think we've found your long lost son."

Tony scoffed in response while I shot the mechanic a smug smirk. "He wishes he were lucky enough to be related to me," I stated, and Tony just rolled his eyes before giving me a look of fond amusement, a look I was very familiar with. It reminded me of old times. Better times. Like, when I still had a family and wasn't homeless.

That dark thought extinguished the small moment of happiness I'd felt. The room's inhabitants seemed to realize my sudden mood change because focus was now placed on getting me out of here. While Pepper filled out paperwork, Tony helped (_forced_) me into a wheelchair and wheeled me down to the ground floor where there was a car waiting for me. A grim looking man in a suit greeted us.

"You must be Happy," I said, holding a hand out to the stoic man. I recognized him from Tony's descriptions. As he shook my hand, I couldn't help but say, "You know, I don't know who gave you the nickname Happy, but it definitely suits you."

Happy raised an eyebrow at me, looked at Tony, and then just rolled his eyes as he sarcastically mumbled, "Great, another one."

"You're on a roll, Gizmo," Tony stated with humor, giving the back of my neck a light squeeze. He attempted to help me into the back of the car, but I waved him off.

"I'm malnourished, not invalid," I protested as I slid in. My shoulder throbbed painfully, but it was better than before, so I easily ignored it. Tony slid in next to me and Pepper sat in the front next to Happy.

As we drove home (Stark tower, I assumed), Tony kept conversation casual and light, filling me in on one of his latest projects. I threw myself into the conversation, eager to discuss anything that didn't have to do with the past two months, and eager to act like nothing had changed. Him and I just talking shop almost made it seem like I was just on vacation here or something.

Happy pulled us into a private garage, and my eyes widened at the number of expensive cars.

"You've got to let me try some of these out," I gushed as I stepped out of the car, and Tony gave a loud snort.

"Did you get a license since the last time we spoke?" the older man queried with a grin.

"Pfft! I'm from a small town, Tony. I learned to drive years ago," I informed him with a dismissive wave of my hand.

"Yeah, but do you have a _license_?" he repeated, and I just frowned minutely before asking, "So, when I get a license I can drive whatever car I want? Nice!"

"Hey, I never said that!" Tony rushed to say as we entered an elevator.

"Fine," I replied with an unconcerned shrug. "I could probably build a better car than anything you have, anyways. Better yet, I'll build a motorcycle."

Tony looked affronted for only a few seconds at my words before turning amused. He placed a light hand on the back of my neck, giving it a squeeze as the elevator doors opened. We stepped out into a wide open area where there was a kitchen, dining room, and living room. There were large windows leading out onto a balcony, and I instantly recognized it as where Spider-man had landed with me.

"Nice place," I commented as I looked around. What I'd seen so far was larger than my house, and I hadn't even been down any of the hallways. The furniture looked expensive but comfortable and well worn. There were coffee mugs, papers, a backpack, and snack wrappers lying around showing the living room as being the center of the home.

"Come on, Harley, let me show you to your room," Tony stated, and I immediately followed him down a hallway.

"This is Peter's room," he informed me, pointing out the first door on the left, and I gave the engineer a pointed look.

"Your intern?" I broached in confusion, letting him know that having a room for an intern sounded a little weird.

"Yeah, well, he's more than just an intern," Tony defended, looking uncomfortable. "He's, uh…

"He's Spider-man," I finished, smirking at the look of utter shock on his face. He turned, looking ready to argue, before seeming to realize from the look on my face that there was no changing my mind.

"How'd you figure it out?" he asked in resignation.

"It's not your fault," I insisted, realizing that he was feeling guilty. "You never told me Spider-man's name, but you started talking a lot about him the same time you started talking about your new intern, Peter Parker. You talk about both of them in the same tone, somewhere between fondness and exasperation. I also know you're not one to just go out and hire a personal intern, especially a kid, so there had to be something really special about Parker to get your attention. Final straw was yesterday when I met Spider-man. His mannerisms and speech tell me he's a kid. One plus one equals two, y'know."

"Damn, Sherlock," Tony eventually stated, running a hand through his dark hair. "You really are an observant little son of a gun. You can't tell anyone this, though. Peter doesn't want the world knowing who he is."

I nodded my head. "No problem," I assured him. "Not sure I'd do the same if I were him, but it's his choice." Honestly, knowing myself, I would've announced who I was. Keeping a secret sounded like a lot of hard work.

Tony nodded his head, staring at me intently for a little while before beginning to walk again. "That's mine and Pep's room," he gestured, pointing to a door on the right, "and this will be your room." He opened the door and I stepped into the largest bedroom I'd ever seen. It was like the size of half my old house. The size was only accentuated by its sparseness as there was only a bed, desk and dresser.

"I know it's pretty empty and boring right now, but we didn't know what you'd like." Tony told me. "I've got an online catalog you can go through or we can go to actual shops where you can pick out furniture, electronics, decorations, and whatever else you need. In terms of clothes, Pepper got you some essentials, but we also wanted to let you pick out your own stuff," he informed me as he pulled open my closet…_a large walk in closet_. Woah.

I looked around the room, a little overwhelmed with what I'd been told. He'd called this my room and he was going to let me decorate it whatever way I wanted. He was buying me clothes. He wouldn't treat a guest that was only staying for a little while like this, would he? Well, he does have the money. He could just get rid of all my stuff after I'm sent to who-knows-where.

"Why don't you shower, or better yet, take a bath and change into something comfortable," Tony suggested, grabbing some clothes for me before pointing out the bathroom. _My own personal bathroom in my room._ Woah again.

"Uh, yeah, a bath actually sounds great," I had to admit, unable to keep from flushing as I realized it'd been almost a month since I'd bathed. Washing in bathrooms and rivers didn't really count. I had to smell horrible, but Tony had been nice enough not to say anything.

"Great, well you take care of that, and then we'll get some food in you," Tony declared, giving me a smile before leaving.

Grabbing the clothes Tony had picked out, I went into the restroom and gasped when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Staring full on, I was shocked by how different I looked. My cheek bones were more prominent, any lingering baby fat long gone. My hair was way long, limp, and curlier than I ever remembered. The circles under my eyes had darkened, and my eyes…my green eyes seemed to lack the brightness they used to have. Looking in the mirror, I didn't see a fifteen-year-old kid. I didn't know who I saw.

I ended up taking three showers before I felt clean, and then I took a bath to relax. Getting out and dressed, I couldn't help but sigh in contentment. It'd been so long since I'd felt clean. It'd been so long since I'd felt comfortable.

Looking at my PJs, I chuckled at the faded AC-DC t-shirt and worn MIT sweats. These had to belong to Tony. The sweats and t-shirt were a little big, but I preferred these to new pajamas because they reminded me of Tony, and in my mind, Tony always equated to safety. They also smelled like him, I realized, inhaling several scents like coffee, oil, and expensive cologne.

I looked back at the mirror and frowned as the person looking back still didn't look like me. Who are you?

I left the room and headed towards the kitchen. My stomach was grumbling, so when I walked out of the hallway and saw food already prepared, I grinned widely. I didn't care what it was. Anything would be better than dumpster food.

"Pepper, you are a goddess," I proclaimed upon noting she was the one that had cooked.

"And you are quite the little charmer, aren't you?" she replied, giving me a plate of soup with some saltine crackers and a glass of milk.

"Eat whatever you can, just don't push it, okay? I don't want you to get sick," Pepper suggested kindly, and I nodded my head, giving her my thanks before digging in. She sat herself next to me and busied herself with a tablet while I ate. Right as I was finishing, Tony strolled on in, smile widening when he saw me.

"Clothes a little big?" he asked rhetorically, and I shrugged.

"They're comfortable and clean, so they're perfect," I admitted, not wanting him to take them back.

"We'll take you out to buy your own clothes tomorrow, along with things for your bedroom," Pepper informed me, "Unless, of course, you're as against shopping as Peter is," she added laconically.

At my questioning look and Tony's laugh, Pepper said, "Getting Peter to help choose _anything_ for his room was like pulling teeth bare-handed. He would've slept on a bare floor and insisted it was still the greatest room ever."

"Remember when you bought him those Star Wars socks?" Tony recalled, and both adults laughed aloud.

"He freaked," Tony chortled. "You'd have thought Pep had gotten him a copy of A New Hope on original VHS signed by the entire cast with how overjoyed he was."

"Point is, Peter is really bad at receiving gifts or us spending any amount of money on him," Pepper added more seriously. "In the end, the only reason he picked out anything for his room was because I told him it would make Tony happy."

"You—wait, what? That's how you got him to choose bedroom furniture?" Tony questioned, mouth agape.

"Yup," Pepper answered, giving the mechanic a peck on the cheek. "He did it to make you happy."

"Stubborn spiderling," Tony grumbled, looking put out.

I smirked at his expression before speaking to Pepper. "I don't think I'm that stubborn, but I don't want you guys to feel like you _need_ to buy me anything. I mean, I've survived the past month with just a change of clothes."

"As of 2:48 AM last night, I was appointed as your temporary guardian Mr. Keener, so this isn't charity," Tony stated matter-of-factly. "This is me being a good guardian. You have a room that needs stuff and you need clothes, so pick whatever you want. You know money isn't an issue for me, and I want you to feel comfortable here. For now, this is your home."

"Okay," I responded with a large grin, although my mind was focused on "temporary guardianship", and that this was my home "for now". What did that mean? How long was temporary? Would he really send me back?

Stupid!

Of course, it's just temporary. What were you expecting? To be adopted? To live with him forever?

I ruffled my hair to cover up my concerning thoughts. I needed to focus on the now. I needed to show them I was fine. Maybe if I didn't cause them any trouble, then they'd let me stay longer.

"So, um, why does Peter have a room here? Does he live here too?" I decided to ask, curiosity getting the best of me. Tony had never told me he was close enough with his intern to actually have a room for him. Why were they buying him things? Didn't he have his own family?

"He lives with his aunt, but he comes by once or twice a week to help in the lab and hang out. Most weekends he spends the night since his aunt works her longest hours then," Tony answered casually.

"Or, he stops by when he's injured," Pepper added grimly, Tony giving a half nod before amending, "You mean when I figure out he's injured despite him trying to hide it and I force him to come."

Both shared smiles, and it was obvious they really cared about Peter. I felt my stomach twist as I realized they talked about Peter like he was their kid. Peter had an aunt, he had family, but it seemed like he also had surrogate parents with Tony and Pepper.

An uncomfortable thought hit me. If they already had Peter as a son, would they want me? Would I just be in the way? Peter sounded like the perfect son from what I'd heard. He was smart, smart enough to help Tony out in the lab. He sounded well behaved and polite. To top it all off, he was also a superhero, a superhero being personally trained by Iron Man.

Me, on the other hand, I wasn't really any of those things. Okay, I'm super smart too, but I don't know how I'll compare to Peter. I'm not any of those other things, though. I'm a smart-mouthed sarcastic little shit, and I'm proud of that. Rules are more like guidelines, and I've got a lot of baggage. Murdered family, crappy foster homes, and on yeah, a street rat as of the last month. Who would want me?

What was I thinking? Had this been my plan when I came here? I'd wanted Tony to fix things, but what exactly had I been expecting him to do? Honestly, if I thought it through a part of me did think that maybe, just maybe Tony would want me to stay with him.

Jeez, I was an idiot. Tony and I spent hours, just _hours_ together all those year ago. We'd talked on the phone a lot, yeah, but it wasn't like we'd hung out or ever even been to his place. I was just a poor kid that helped him out one time, so he felt indebted.

"Harley," I heard Tony call, and I snapped my eyes towards his, forcing a pleasant smile onto my face. Tony returned my smile, but with a look of concern in his eyes that caused me to squirm. I had to do better at hiding my emotions.

"We need to talk, bud, about what's been going on with you," Tony spoke gently, and I stiffened as l looked between him and Pepper's understanding eyes.

Knowing I couldn't just say, no, I settled for letting them guide the conversation. "What do you want to know?" I asked calmly.

The two adults exchanged looks, before Tony began to speak. "I've read the police report on what happened with your family," he informed me, his eyes locked on mine more intently than I'd ever seen them. "I'm not going to ask you to talk about what happened, but I need you to know that it wasn't your fault."

I automatically opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off before I said anything.

"No, listen," Tony continued firmly, "their deaths were _not your fault_. I'll tell you as many times as I need to until you believe me, but I swear on my mother's grave that I'm not lying to make you feel better. If you'd been there, you'd be dead," he declared bluntly, and I flinched.

He was right, of course. Who was I kidding? I wasn't a superhero. I was just some nerdy kid, so what did I think I could've done had I been there? Taken down those robbers? With what? A potato gun? I curled my hands into fists, fighting back tears of anger towards myself. Closing my eyes, I took in several deep, slow breaths to maintain my composure. I couldn't break down. They didn't need to deal with a sniveling kid.

A hand was placed on my arm, and my eyes flew open to see Pepper giving me a sympathetic stare. I forced a small smile of thanks onto my face.

"I know that their deaths hit you hard," Tony spoke again in that same gentle tone I'd rarely heard from him. "I know you must've been suffering so much, and wish I'd been there for you. I gotta ask, though, why didn't you ever reach out? Two months, bud. Two months you suffered alone. I know we're not close, but I just…why didn't you ask for help earlier?"

I blinked in surprise that he hadn't figured it out. Did he really think I hadn't tried? Did he really think I'd willingly chosen to suffer through this alone?

"I didn't have your number," I told him simply, and his brow furrowed in confusion while Pepper's rose in understanding as a sad groan escaped her. Tony's eyes flicked towards her before back at me, and I could tell he still didn't get it.

"My phone was stolen, and I didn't memorize your number," I expanded. "I had no way of contacting you. Nobody believed that I knew you, and when I tried to call your company, nobody would forward my calls. Eventually, I made my way here, and I talked to your receptionist yesterday, but I just got hassled by security. I ended up bolting because I was afraid they'd try and arrest me, which I guess I understand. I mean, who'd ever believe that some kid from a nobody town in Tennessee would know Tony Stark and Pepper Potts," I stated with a shrug, trying my hardest to sound like this was no big deal when in reality I felt bitter.

It's not their fault, I chided myself internally. They can't help who they are. Tony has been famous since birth, so he doesn't understand what it's like to be a nobody. He doesn't know what it's like to have people look down at you because of how you're dressed or where you're from.

Pepper covered her mouth with a hand while Tony just gaped at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. I was hit with a bizarre desire to laugh, but figured it was an inappropriate time, and if I wanted them to believe I was okay, random laughter wasn't going to help my case.

Tony eventually gained control of himself, his mouth snapping shut as he abruptly stood up. He paced back and forth a little, and I could tell he was angry. Was he angry because I hadn't memorized his number?

"Jesus effing christ!" I heard him mutter furiously before he let out a harsh breath and sat back down. When he looked at me, I noticed the anger was gone, replaced with guilt.

"I am so damn sorry, Harley," he told me with more emotion than I'd ever heard from him. "This—god, this _never_ should've happened. I can't believe I didn't think of this. I can't believe I was this stupid! I swear, nothing like this will ever happen again," he promised vehemently. "I'll set up protocols that if you ever try and get in contact with me through any means, the staff will know who you are."

I nodded my head, pleased by his words as it meant he was still planning on maintaining contact with me; so, even when his temporary guardianship ended, at least I'd still be able to talk with him.

Tony grumbled to himself, covering his face with both his hands in frustration. Taking in a huge breath, he rubbed his face before looking at me again with continued guilt.

"Don't feel guilty," I had to say, not liking that he was beating himself up on my account. "I knew that you'd want to help, and I mean, you're helping now. I should've memorized your number."

Both adults shook their heads at me.

"I should've reached out earlier," Tony argued firmly. "I should've known something was wrong as we've never gone two months without some form of contact, even it was just a text of what you'd been working on."

"It's fine, dude, I'm not angry," I insisted, knowing that I wasn't being completely honest. I was hurt, and I was angry, but I didn't want to be. It was hard, though, when he just admitted to not even thinking about me these past two months. I certainly thought about him a lot, and I wanted to believe that he'd at least tried to reach out, but he hadn't. He hadn't thought of me at all. Probably too busy with Peter.

"No, it's not fine," Tony protested stubbornly, "and I understand if you're upset with me. It's okay to be mad. I screwed up, but I promise not to screw up again. I'm here to help in whatever way you need," he announced, his face and tone completely sincere.

"We're both here to help," Pepper added just as sincerely. "I know we never met in person, but I'd like to think we've spent enough time on the phone to be comfortable with one another."

I couldn't help but smile as I nodded my head. Yes, she and I had spent many hours on the phone. Sometimes it'd be me just talking about school or her talking about work, but it'd been nice. She listened to me even better than Tony, and she'd helped me deal with the anger I'd had towards my mom and her alcoholic tendencies.

"Thank you," I told them with gratitude. "I know I just showed up out of the blue, and that you're really busy people, so I want you to know I really appreciate what you've done for me already. I promise I won't cause you guys any problems while I'm here. I'll stay out of"—

"Okay, knock that shit off, Gizmo," Tony interrupted with a scoff. "We'll accept your thanks, unnecessary as it is, but you don't need to promise to behave or stay out of our way or whatever nonsense you're going on about."

"What Tony means," Pepper spoke up, shooting her fiancé a mild glare, "is that this is your home now, and we want you to feel like you can be yourself. Don't try and be perfect because you feel you're a bother."

"That's exactly what I said," Tony exclaimed with a harrumph. "Kid understood me, right?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at me.

I let out a short laugh, nodding my head in agreement. I had understood what he meant.

Tony and Pepper made faces at each other that had my smile widening, but it quickly fell when Tony broached the next topic, my foster homes.

"I've read what the child service people wrote, but I'd like to know your perspective," Tony stated. "Three homes in the span of a month, and then a month on the streets. What happened? Why did you feel that living on the streets was preferable to foster care?"

"Streets are safer," was my automatic response, and I still felt that was true. If…no, _when_ they grew tired of me, I'd make sure to leave before child services could take me again.

"No, they're not—or, they shouldn't be, buddy," Tony refuted, looking rather askance at my response. "I really need you to tell me what happened in the homes you were placed in. It's okay if you don't want to give details, but I want to understand how you'd ever think that being homeless was the better option."

I pursed my lips, not really wanting to talk about this. I didn't want him to know what went on. I didn't want to come off like a weak little kid that couldn't protect himself.

"It's just…they weren't good places to live. The people…I just didn't like them, and it wasn't like they cared about me. I didn't want to be there and they didn't want me there, so I left," I explained, hoping they wouldn't press.

"Why didn't you want to be in those homes, though?" Pepper inquired, her tone delicate, as if she were afraid of upsetting me. I hated that. I hated that she felt she had to treat me with kid gloves, as if I were going to fall apart over a simple question.

"I just told you," I asserted, but both adults shook their heads negatively.

"You've claimed that living on the streets is safer, so what was it about those homes that made you feel unsafe?" Tony questioned softly, and I internally bristled at how even he was treating me as if I were made of glass. Tony _never_ treated me like that.

"Did they hurt you?" he pressed in that irritatingly delicate tone. "Did they…," he trailed off awkwardly, and I knew what he was insinuating.

"Nobody touched me," I snapped, fighting to keep from glaring.

"Harley, you've got to help us out here," Pepper pleaded. "Child services is fighting our guardianship, claiming Tony is unfit, and it would help us help _you_ if we knew what happened."

Anxiety coursed through me at her words, and I wondered how soon I would be sent back.

"Isn't it just enough that I say I don't feel safe there?" I had to ask, giving them both pleading looks of my own. "The people weren't nice. Make your own assumptions, but I'm fine now, and I really don't want to talk about it. I'd rather just forget these past two months and move on."

Silence followed my words, Tony and Pepper exchanging looks. I could tell they weren't happy with what I'd said, but I knew they'd given in when they let out twin sighs.

"We're sorry for pushing," Pepper apologized, "but we just want to help, so if you ever feel the need to talk, we're here for you, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed quickly, relieved that they were dropping the subject. I had no plans of taking her up on her offer, though. I never wanted to think about foster care, let alone talk about it.

"Alright, let's do something fun," Tony announced suddenly, standing up and sporting a large grin. "Come and join me in my lab, young padawan."

"Padawan?" I stated with a snort to which he shrugged, looking a little sheepish.

"Peteys a huge fun. Makes me watch at least one of the movies _every_ week," he explained fondly. I held back a frown and biting response. I wanted to snap that I'm _not_ Peter Parker, but I knew how childish that would come off, so I just smiled and followed behind, eager to check out his lab.

When we walked in, my mouth dropped open in awe. This was everything I imagined and more. Excitement began building in me, an emotion that felt almost foreign to me. I'd missed being in my lab. I'd missed working on my tech.

Rushing around the room, I took in the suits, sped read through the holograms, and poured over blueprints. I touched everything and played with machines I knew only existed in this room. One area in a corner of the lab was a little different, even messier than the rest of the lab, if possible. Candy wrappers, empty bottles, and textbooks littered the area, and if that weren't enough clues that this was Parker's area, then the blueprints on the spider suit and a broken web shooter definitely were. Jealousy hit me once more, and I fought to shove it away. Peter hadn't done anything to me. In fact, he'd been a huge help to me yesterday. He didn't deserve my resentment. It wasn't his fault he was the perfect protégé for Tony.

Tony remained silent the entire time I looked around, and when I finally felt satisfied, I noticed he wasn't even paying attention, but working on a gadget. I eagerly headed over, desperate to know and desperate to help or get working on something. My body buzzed with renewed energy and my hands felt restless. The familiar itch to be holding and/or working on something surfaced.

"Hey, that's an arc reactor," I spoke upon closer inspection of the item. "You had yours taken out years ago, so what's this one for?"

"Housing unit for nanoparticles, or, that's the plan at least," the mechanic answered, and my eyes widened.

"No way! That sounds awesome!" I gushed. "So, it'll house your entire suit? Do you need some help?"

"Yes, it will, and sure, take a seat," he replied, kicking a stool over to me. "So, here's where I'm stuck at," he began, explaining the multiple issues he was having. I felt flattered and even touched that he was not just accepting my help, but that he was _listening_ to my suggestions. I mean, he had before, but never on something this big. This was related to his Iron Man suit, his most prized and important creation.

We worked, and we were so engaged that we lost track of time. I would've loved to have kept going, but my body ended up giving out on me sooner than my mind. My hands started to shake and a yawn escaped me, which Tony noticed right away.

"Let's get some more food in you, and then you can lie down," he announced suddenly, standing up.

"What? No, Tony, come on, let's keep going," I nearly begged, not wanting to sleep. This was the most normal I'd felt in months, and I didn't want to lose this feeling of happiness and contentment.

"Munchkin, you look dead on your feet, which means you're no good to me," he countered in amusement, and I frowned, feeling stunned and hurt.

"Okay, well, let me just eat something quick and then I'll be good to go, I swear," I insisted. "I can still help you."

Tony's eyes narrowed before he seemed to realize something.

"Hey, I didn't mean to say you were no help," he told me sincerely. "I just meant that mistakes happen when you're exhausted. Get some rest, and we'll pick this up later. No worries."

"I don't need to rest, though!" I shouted before I could help myself, freezing immediately afterwards as I realized who I'd just yelled out. I expected anger from Tony, but it never came. Instead, he seemed to become downright concerned.

"You afraid of nightmares?" he outright asked, looking too understanding for my liking.

I shifted uneasily before looking away. How had he figured that out so quickly?

I heard a soft sigh and footsteps before I was greeted to Tony kneeling in front of me. He waited until I made eye contact before placing a comforting hand on my leg and speaking.

"I understand wanting to stay awake to avoid nightmares, but you need to sleep," he told me gently. "Talking about nightmares can help…it's definitely helped me," he admitted, and my eyebrows rose in surprise. "So, if you want to talk, I'm here, and if…if you'd like me to stay with you until you fall asleep"—

"No way," I quickly interrupted with a rapid shake of my head, mortified at the mere thought. "I'm not a little kid, man. I don't need you to hold my hand. I'll be fine," I asserted, getting to my feet with a reassuring smile.

"Thanks for the offer of talking, though, I'll, um, take that into account," I lied, making my way out of the lab and to the kitchen before he could even respond. I heard him following, so I quickly engaged in conversation with Pepper the second I saw her, offering to help cook. Tony eyed me with concern multiple times, but thankfully didn't bring up the matter of sleep again.

Dinner was pleasant, and afterwards, I went off to my room. I honestly was exhausted, and I knew sleep would come easily. Nightmares on the other hand came and went. I never knew if I'd have one or not. Hopefully, now that I was safe my mind wouldn't torture me. Hopefully.


	3. Chapter3

**Chapter 3: How can I help?**

Thanks so much for the great reviews! I know Harley isn't a popular subject like Peter but I love him.

Guest asked if there would be discipline in this story and my answer is no there won't.

**Tony's POV:**

Harley was most definitely _not_ okay. The young teen had been here three weeks, and while physically he was nearly completely recuperated, mentally I knew things were far from fine. He was making a grand effort of acting like everything was good, but I was far too used to living with traumatized people who were experts at hiding their pain. Compared to the Avengers and me, Harley's acting skills were mediocre at best.

His ability to evade and put off conversation, however, was on par with me.

Or, it might be because I wasn't willing to push. I had always hated when the Avengers or even Pepper would push me to talk about things, so I hadn't been able to bring myself to do the same thing with the boy.

Whatever the reason, I hadn't been able to extract from Harley more about what had happened or what he was feeling than the first day we'd spoken. I mean, I got it, I really did. Talking about painful shit hurt. It was embarrassing and it brought up emotions one didn't want to deal with, but I also knew that keeping all that crap inside would only make things worse in the long run.

Getting Harley to talk or even relax was nigh impossible, though! I thought Peter was stubborn and dedicated, but he'd definitely met his match in Harley. Peter could be reasoned with. Peter toed the line with his limits, pushing at them every now and then, but Harley leaped over them. If I wasn't keeping such a close eye on the genius, he'd work himself until he passed out. It was frightening watching him, because it was like looking in a mirror—a mirror of my past, that is.

My time with the Avengers, and then mentoring Peter had drastically changed my work habits. Being babysat by a team of heroes first, and then wanting to be a good role model, I'd started to learn some moderation. I made sure I ate at least twice a day and slept every day. Since the fiasco with the Accords, I'd even cut the drinking after one awful night of alcoholism had led to me breaking into Pepper's hotel apartment and falling apart into a sobbing mess. Completely humiliating, but I guess it had led to us talking and getting back together. Anyways, that situation coupled with once again trying to be a good role model, I'd cut out the alcohol.

I knew I was a different man than the one that had met Harley years ago. When I'd met the kid, I'd been an utter mess, suffering from nightmares and anxiety attacks. I hadn't been the nicest or most appreciative man, flippantly dismissing Harl's comment regarding his father's abandonment, and keeping him at arm's length. It hadn't seemed to bother him one bit, and over the years I'd learned it was because the kid was just as much a smart mouth as I was. I regretted my actions now, how I acted and that I'd allowed Harley to get in harm's way. He'd acted admirably, though, literally saving my life.

My respect and appreciation of him was what led to me gifting him with his own personal lab. Time went on and the respect increased, but with it came a certain fondness or affection. I just didn't realize that's what I was feeling, not until Peter, that is. Peter brought out a, uh, _paternal_ side of me, and as I was attempting to digest that, I also realized that I'd felt these feelings before. I'd felt them any time I'd speak with Harley.

It was quite the revelation to me. Honestly, it had hit me hard to realize that I didn't just care about one kid, but _two_. That without realizing or intending to, I'd started to care for and mentor two brilliant boys. They'd somehow managed to wiggle their way into what I thought had been a walled off heart. Sneaky little brats.

Pepper and Rhodey said they were good for me, and I mostly agreed. Except for the constant worry, stress, and grey hairs, they were great company. Smart, funny, kind-hearted, and everything I wished I could've been. I saw a bit of myself in both of them…well, maybe more than a bit in Harley's case now. The more time I spent around the kid, the more I saw myself, and that was concerning.

I'd tried talking to him. I'd tried getting _him_ to talk, but nothing worked. He didn't want to hear about my concern and understanding, and he didn't want to talk about _anything_ to do with emotions. Again, just like me.

Why couldn't he be like Peter? The spiderling was so much easier to deal with, especially since I'd gotten to know him better. Peter may take my biting sarcasm and smart mouth in stride on a normal day, but when he was upset, he'd shut down. That was always my first clue that something was wrong. I'd ask, and he'd automatically deny, but once I dropped my walls and outright showed my concern and desire to help, the hero was putty in my hands.

He yearned for my affection, both verbal and physical. The teen was so tactile, and always brightened when I put an arm around him, ruffled his hair, or hugged him. That's just the kind of person he was, and even though I wasn't, I'd long since gotten over my aversion with touch…at least with him. I was more than happy to offer the boy a hug if it'd bring a smile to his face.

I snorted at that thought. Who'd have thought such a simple thing like a smile could bring me such joy? Any time Peter was upset or hurt it was like I was physically injured. My heart would ache and my stomach churn, the urge to make everything better hitting me hard.

It was the same with Harley, although I'd never been able to do much for that boy except listen and provide advice. I just didn't know the kid enough, and I was realizing that he'd probably kept a lot from me. Yes, I knew about the bullying, but I never knew how bad it was. He'd insist it wasn't physical, but I never quite believed him. Even if it wasn't physical, though, I knew all too well how much hurt words alone could cause. Harley had never asked for help or advice, though. He'd only wanted me to listen, and so I'd listened, honestly unsure of what advice I could even give. He'd also told me about his mother's issue with alcoholism, again, only wanting me to listen. I'd offered to get her into rehab, but he'd outright refused, looking horrified at the suggestion before insisting things weren't that bad. I knew even then that I shouldn't have believed him, but it was the easy thing to do when I was here unable to do anything to help.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised then that he didn't want to talk.

I'd never pushed for him to talk so much, though. I'd let things go all those other times, unlike now where I was actively asking. I'd attempted the same techniques I'd used with Peter, being open and honest, but he'd responded with discomfort and confusion. Again, I had to remind myself that I wasn't the same man he'd met. Our relationship wasn't like my relationship with Peter. Yes, I mentored both boys, but we'd met under different circumstances.

Harley had met a broken, sarcastic man in desperate need of help. I was simply Tony, the very human and flawed mechanic. Harley was as sarcastic and smart-mouthed as me, and we teased each other all the time. We'd worked together on many projects, most recently being Rhodey's mechanical legs, so he was used to me treating him like an equal. He wasn't intimidated by me in the slightest, so he was never careful with what he said or even when he contacted me. He once forced me up at 3AM because he had an idea that I just needed to hear, and even when I cursed him out of sheer exhaustion, he'd just told me to shut up and stop being a baby. That'd been the night he'd designed a rudimentary prosthetic arm that would react to human thought and even allow for feeling. It was leagues ahead of anything in production and was the main reason I'd later brought him in to help out with Rhodey.

Anyways, Harley knew and was used to a different Tony than Peter. Yes, I'd gone to Peter for help, but he'd been a boy who'd hero-worshipped me. I was Tony Stark and Iron Man to him, and even though he'd lost his hero-worship by now, he still had an enormous amount of respect for me. I mean, he still called me Mr. Stark and was constantly afraid of being a bother. I had to continuously reassure him that I wanted to help him and that I enjoyed his company. We worked in the lab together, but he was always hesitant when it came to offering help or god forbid, a suggestion. The young hero was as brilliant as Harley and had amazing ideas, but he was always so embarrassed to show me anything unless it involved his spider suit. He never felt what he created was good enough to warrant my attention, let alone praise.

Harley oozed self-confidence, real and/or imagined and you knew when he was in the room. He was loud, brash, and spoke without thinking. He was charming, and since he allowed us to buy him clothes, he always made sure they were matched and impeccably neat, unless in the lab. His hair was always perfectly styled, and he had one of those 100-watt grins that I knew would turn the head of many young women if the boy ever went out…Yes, I realized that I'd pretty much described myself.

Peter lacked self-confidence. He was quiet and unassuming until you got to know him, at which point he became extremely excitable and talkative. He had way too much energy and took to literally bouncing around the room to get it out of his system. His talking or rambling would be about anything, but he was always very careful not to offend or interrupt. He was extremely polite and kind-hearted, willing to help anyone with anything whether in his suit or not. He became nervous with people he didn't know. He loved his shirts with science puns, his worn jeans, and scuffed shoes. His hair was always a mess of curls, but he didn't care.

I do have to add, though, that Peter's hero persona, Spider-man was different as well. He was still polite and kind-hearted, but unlike Peter Parker, Spider-man was confident in everything he did. He was never afraid to question me or offer his own suggestions, and he always recounted his missions with pride. He also had a sense of humor and quick wit that usually left me in stitches when I would watch recordings. One of my goals was to combine both personas into one.

The boy's differences continued even in their interests.

Peter loved watching movies while Harley had no interest in movies or TV. Peter enjoyed being in the lab, and could definitely get lost in his work, but he was also okay with leaving. He had friends who he enjoyed hanging out with and had recently gotten a girlfriend. He was even involved in the Academic Decathlon at his school. All in all, I felt Peter was a rather well- adjusted kid considering his own traumas and life as a super-hero.

Harley, on the other hand had never mentioned having friends or being involved in school. In fact, since starting high school he'd been home-schooled, which allowed him to learn what he wanted and at his own pace. The kid would live in the lab if allowed. He lost himself in his work, and always had to be coaxed out for even basic needs like food and sleep. He had no desire to hang out with anyone or go anywhere. His only other interest besides tinkering was drawing. I'd known he liked to draw, but I'd never known how good he was. He had the ability to draw not just a realistic scene like a landscape or person, but to also manage to convey emotion with simple shading. Add any color and it was almost like looking at an actual picture at times. Suffice to say, I didn't think Harley was in any way well-adjusted.

The point of all this exhausting thinking was that I was extremely worried about Harley. He was not okay, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to help him, and that scared me. It was so obvious to me that he was suffering, and it hurt that I couldn't soothe his pain. He was hurting this second, and I could do nothing because he wouldn't let me.

Should I force him to speak? Somehow, I knew that wasn't the right option. All it would lead to was anger and resentment. I didn't want to alienate the teen more than I felt he already was. I didn't want him to run away.

I still didn't know why he'd left his foster homes. I had ideas, especially considering Harley had said he hadn't felt safe or liked, but nothing concrete. I wanted to talk to the homes he'd been to, but child services refused to give me their names. I knew I could figure it out if I really wanted to, but I was afraid of what I'd do…or, maybe I was afraid of knowing. I didn't want to know that Harls has been hurt, whether physically or verbally.

Gah! All of this was so damn confusing and frustrating! That boy genius was like an equation I couldn't solve, and I knew it was because I didn't have all the variables yet. I didn't have enough information, so I couldn't figure out what tools I even needed.

Maybe some normality would help. The kid should go to school, shouldn't he? What if I sent him to school with Peter? That way he'd already have a friend.

The ding of my elevator pulled me from my thoughts, and I welcomed the reprieve. Rhodey walked out talking animatedly with Harley, and I felt some of my tension leave me. I'd shared my concerns with Rhodey regarding Harley, and the colonel had volunteered to get the kid out of the house today. I didn't know what they'd done, but from the grins on both their faces, I knew they'd had fun.

"Is that Pac-man?" I asked in surprise as I watched them wheel a large, dusty, broken machine out of the elevator.

"Yeah!" Harley exclaimed, eagerly pulling the machine into the lab. "Rhodes took me to an arcade, and I saw this just chilling in a corner. The owner said it didn't work, so I offered to fix it for free, and then he said that if I could fix it, I could have it! Isn't that awesome? I love old arcade games!"

I grinned widely at his excitement, my heart warming at seeing how elated he looked. I hadn't seen the kid this happy in ages, and even though it still involved tech, it was good to know he had another interest: vintage video games. I filed that thought away, walking over towards my brother in all but blood.

"I don't know how you did this, but thanks, man," I expressed genuinely, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

Rhodey shot me a smug look as he remarked, "I'm just good with annoying little geniuses." I rolled my eyes before watching Harley immediately get to work on fixing the game up. I had no doubts he'd be playing it before the day was over.

"So, how was he?" I asked Rhodey once we were out of earshot.

"A bit defensive in the beginning, but once he realized I wasn't going to ask him any uncomfortable questions, he was his regular self," Rhodey explained. "I got him going when I brought up my legs, and eventually I got around to asking him what he liked to do for fun. He mentioned his little town had an arcade that he loved hanging out at, so I just looked up the nearest arcade to us and bingo. Kid went wild, it was fun."

"Any other tidbits he give you?" I asked, and the older man pursed his lips before giving me a look.

"To be honest, Tones, hanging with Harley was almost like hanging out with you as a kid," he informed me with a nostalgic smile, and I furrowed my brow, unsure if this was a good thing or not.

"In what way?" I pressed warily.

"Well, same brilliance and cockiness, that's for sure," he started off with a light laugh before turning somber. "He's also trying too hard to act like everything is okay, like you were after your parents' deaths."

I let out a heavy sigh. "Any suggestions on how to help him?" I asked hopefully, and Rhodey's responding expression was grim as he shook his head.

"He obviously needs to talk to someone, but I was never able to get you to talk, so I don't think I'll be able to get Harley to either," he continued. "I can hang out with him and help distract, but the only one with any chance of getting him to open up will be you. He did let one little comment slide out," he informed me. "He said he came to you because you were the only person left that he knew cared about him, and that he knew you'd be able to fix things. Fix what, I don't think even he knows, but he obviously feels you can help him."

I nodded, feeling some hopefulness that Harley knew I cared and had faith that I could help him. That was a good start, I supposed.

"I'll stop by in a few days," Rhodes then said, giving me an encouraging look before leaving.

Walking over to Harley, I smiled as I watched him work.

"Need any help, Gizmo?" I questioned, already knowing his response.

"Nah, man, I got this," he answered distractedly.

"Okay," I replied, going over to my desk and beginning to work on my own tech. I blasted music, glad Harley seemed to enjoy the same music as me. I didn't have to worry about volume with him, either, unlike Peter with his sensitive ears.

Time passed, and before I knew it, I heard a loud exclamation of joy. Knowing instantly what happened, I turned to see Harley happily playing on the antique machine.

"Tony, come over here, you've got to play this!" the boy called out, and I quickly made my way over, whistling appreciatively at the machine. The game still looked in rough shape, Harley only fixing enough components to get it working. Restoration would come later.

"I haven't played one of these since I was a kid," I mumbled, marveling at how enjoyable such a simple game could be.

"Wow, I had no idea these games were _that _old," Harley remarked with a cheeky grin. "You sure you still remember how to play?"

I gave the mouthy brat a light shove before replying, "Oh, yeah I do. Watch and learn, Gremlin."

Harley and I switched playing multiple times, cursing at each other and the machine every time we lost.

"This things rigged," Harley complained when he once again lost, and I couldn't help but agree. How could it be so hard to navigate a yellow blob through a maze?

"Hey, do you think the arcade has more of these I can fix?" Harley then asked as I desperately attempted to escape the ghosts. Run Pacman, run!

"Maybe," I responded, "but if not I'm sure I could find some for you."

"That'd be awesome, thanks!" the kid responded cheerfully before booing along with me when I died.

"Come on, let's grab some food," I announced, wanting to make sure the kid ate.

"But"—Harley began to protest, but I just shook my head, firmly guiding the kid out with a hand on his shoulder. Speaking of shoulders…

"How's the shoulder pain?" I probed casually.

"Fine, gets better every day," he answered, rotating his shoulder with barely a grimace.

Dinner was just the two of us, and we had a laugh as we attempted to make recognizable figures and shapes out of pancake mix.

"Throw in some red food coloring!" Harley insisted, dumping nearly the entire thing into the mixing bowl.

"Not the whole thing!" I protested, but it was too late, and the majority of our shapeless pancakes ended up red and then purple when Harley thought it'd be fun to add blue food coloring as well.

"These look awful," I commented before eagerly digging in.

"But they taste awesome," Harley stated between swallows, and I was heartened by his obvious appetite. One less thing to worry about, I couldn't help but think.

"Mine taste better than yours," I asserted, causing him to snort.

"Mine at least look like pancakes," he retorted in amusement. "Yours look like pieces of dog s"—

"Hey guys, what's up!" a chipper voice greeted from the open balcony, and we both turned to see Spider-man walking in. He removed his mask and gave us both a smile as he sat himself down at the table.

"Oh man, I'm starving! Mind if I have some?" he asked me, and I gestured for him to have at it. As usual, the amount he ate blew my mind, and he ended up raiding the fridge for more food when we ran out of pancakes.

"I'm heading back to the lab," Harley declared suddenly, and I frowned as I watched him drop his dishes in the sink.

"Hey, enough tech work for today, Harls, alright?" I called out. "Come sit and have a chat with us. Besides, there's something I want to ask you." Harley looked ready to protest, but I simply pointed at the chair he'd just vacated, which caused him to sigh.

"Take a chill pill," I told him with a roll of my eyes, "we're just chatting."

"About what?" he questioned moodily, and I had to withhold a sigh. Peter looked between the two of us with curiosity as he munched on cold lasagna while sitting on top of the counter.

"What do you think about going to school?" I broached, and Harley's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"School? Like _school_ school?" he asked, looking completely caught off guard.

"Uh, yeah. School school," I responded, a little confused. "What other kind of school is there?"

"Like building school, where I have to go to an actual location and deal with idiot teachers and annoying classmates," the teen explained, looking rather disgusted. I got it, I honestly did. I remembered how bothersome and annoying regular school was. Hell, college wasn't that much better, but it'd at least provided a challenge at times. Kids were a little more mature also.

"Yes, like an actual school. I know you were home schooled the last year or so, but you didn't graduate high school already, did you?" I queried, hoping he'd say no. I didn't fancy letting the boy go off to college at his age and in his emotional state. Been there, done that.

"No, I didn't," was Harley's reluctant response, and I could tell he was regretting that decision.

"Well, you've got to finish high school, so I'm thinking it might be time to enroll you somewhere," I informed him, hoping logic would win out. "Pete's school is meant for gifted kids, so I know you'd be able to get in, and if you went there, you'd at least know someone," I suggested, not understanding his sudden look of annoyance. It was gone, though before I could question it.

"Can't I just be home schooled again?" he pleaded. "I'm sure I could get my diploma in less than a month, and then I could head to college"—

"Not happening," I interrupted sharply, firmly against that idea.

"Why not?" Harley asked in bewilderment. "What's the point of wasting time in high school when it won't teach me anything?"I rapidly mulled over the right way to phrase this to get him to agree. My mind was suddenly made up, and he'd be going to school whether he wanted to or not, but I was praying to every deity that this wouldn't become a point of contention between us.

"Look, I get that high school can be boring, but it'll be good for you," I argued. "You'll be around kids your own age, which means friends, people you can talk to and hang out with. Also, this school of yours isn't a complete bore to you, Petey, is it?" I addressed the spiderling, hoping he'd be able to help.

Peter looked all too eager to insert his opinion and jumped at the chance to speak. "This school is geared towards kids like us, Harley," he stated, "so there are times that even I'm challenged. The science classes even let us work on our own projects."

Harley frowned deeply, looking as if he didn't believe a single word Peter spoke.

Dammit.

I was going to have to be the responsible adult now. The kid had to go to school. It was the law, and it would be good for him to socialize with kids his age. Not to mention, child services was on my ass about everything, and the fact that Harley hadn't started school was working against me. A fight was being waged to take him away, and all the money in the world wouldn't keep the boy in my care if the state felt I wasn't providing him basic needs, which apparently now included school.

"Listen, kiddo, I know it'll be a big change, but this is going to happen. School is the law, and I really feel this will be good for you. You might even have fun if you let yourself," I spoke encouragingly. "You never know, you might find kids with similar interests as you."

I watched with a sinking heart as Harley's jaw muscles tensed, his eyes narrowing as he turned to me. "Why did you even bother asking what I thought if you'd already made up your mind? Forget it," he added before I could manage a reply. "When do I start?" he asked gloomily.

I wished I could say never. I wished I could just home school him, but every person I talked to and every book I read mentioned that being amongst their own peers would be beneficial to a teen. This would be good for him, and hopefully someday he'd see that. Hopefully, he wouldn't hate me.

"Monday," I answered, which would give him almost a week to come to terms.

"It'll be great, Harley, don't stress," Peter spoke up, giving the angry teen an encouraging look. "I'll be there, and you can meet Ned and MJ. They're awesome, and maybe you can even join one of the clubs. There's a robotics club and an art club you'd probably like, and I'm in the Academic Decathlon."

Harley scoffed loudly as Peter finished talking, dismissively waving away his words as he stood up. "I'm going to find Tasha. Later," he declared, and that never-ending sense of helplessness hit me again.

"Don't you want to hang out and"—I began to ask before he cut me off.

"And watch a movie?" Harley finished blandly. "You know I don't do movies. Enjoy yourselves." And with those pleasant words, the depressed teen entered the elevator.

I couldn't help the loud sigh I let out before burying my head in my hands.

"Are you okay, Mr. Stark?" Peter asked softly, and I noticed his red and blue feet standing before me.

"Yeah, pal," I automatically replied, plastering a smile onto my face. "Why don't you go change and we can watch one of your Star Wars movies."

The young hero looked like he didn't believe me, but thankfully didn't push, just smiling back at the mention of his favorite movie franchise. "Sure thing!"

My smile turned more genuine as I watched him bound away with that endless energy of his. If only Harley was that easy to make happy.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, they mean the world to me! **

**Again, I have to repeat that there will be no discipline in this story. **

**Also, it is my plan for Harley and Peter to eventually become friends, but it won't be for a while. **

**Chapter 4: You are not okay**

**Harley's POV:**

I stared up at the hell hole called Midtown School of Science and Technology. I'd been here briefly last week to take the entrance exam, which had been a breeze, and to pick up my schedule. Today, unfortunately was my first day as a sophomore…a measly sophomore. I'd attempted to convince Tony to let me go in as a senior or at least a junior like Peter, but the normally lax mechanic had taken a firm stand on me being amongst kids my own age.

What a load of bullshit, I couldn't help but think snidely, seeing as the man had been a sophomore at MIT at my age. I'd brought that up, but Tony had replied that his experiences were the reason he didn't want to allow me to jump ahead. When I'd probed for those experiences, however, the old man had clammed up.

So, he wants me to talk, but not him? Trust goes both ways, Mr. Know-it-all.

I let out a sigh, watching other students arrive and greet each other enthusiastically. Anxiety hit me at the massive number of people, and I gripped onto my backpack tightly. School had rarely been fun for me. I'd make friends and then I'd lose them because of bullies. Nobody ever wanted to hang out with the kid being hounded by EJ and his idiot thugs. I'd finally been able to convince Mom to let me homeschool myself when I started high school, and that'd been a huge relief. Now, though, Tony was sending me back to this torture.

I gritted my teeth and headed into the cheerfully decorated building, making eye contact with no one as I headed towards my first class. The bell rang just as I arrived, so I quickly introduced myself to the teacher, sitting down towards the back just as the last bell rang. I noticed curious looks from many of the students, but I just ignored them. My plan was to remain quiet and unnoticed. No speaking unless called upon by a teacher, and no interactions with other students. Less chance of people realizing how screwed up I was.

My first three classes of the day went by uneventfully, but the fourth class I ended up having in common with Peter and his best friend Ned. It was advanced chemistry, and I felt a little bit of excitement, hoping we'd get to do some cool chemical mixtures. Looking at the available equipment and chemicals, though, that flicker of excitement was squashed. They had more than my old high school, that was for sure, but I had access to more in my old lab and Tony's lab. This was going to suck.

"Hey, Harley," Peter greeted cheerfully, sitting himself down next to me. "This is Ned," he gestured to the darker skinned teen next to him.

I gave him a head nod in greeting before attempting to block them out, but luck wasn't on my side. I didn't think Peter realized yet that I wasn't his biggest fan. Had I been hiding it from him? No. Yes. Maybe. Okay, I guess I hadn't really been overt in my dislike. I didn't want to alienate Tony's pseudo-son, and risk Tony kicking me out.

But, god, I just couldn't stand the teen! Maybe it wasn't fair. Okay, I knew it wasn't fair, but Tony was my mentor before his.

Maybe if he wasn't so damn perfect, I wouldn't dislike him so much. He was smart, funny, nice, and a freaking superhero. It was like Tony went out and found a younger version of himself. Why would he want me when he could have Peter?

I was nothing but trouble. I could tell Tony was stressed about me. For some reason he always wanted to talk which was weird cuz Tony had never been the talking, touchy-feely type. I didn't know why he wanted me to talk so badly. What did he want me to tell him? Did he really want to know details about what I'd been through? Why? What would it change?

Was he just looking to get answers for child services? Did the put him up to this?

What if I did talk and he didn't like what I said? What if he felt I was too much to handle? Too broken? Too needy?

I was doing the best I could to be as easy going as possible, but it was hard when he kept pushing. I didn't want to be a stressor. I didn't want Tony to be worried about me. I just wanted for things to be like they were. I wanted it to be just the two of us working and hanging out.

That was a stupid, childish thought. I knew that, but I still clung to some hope that things would get better.

What's better, though?

"Harley," a voice called, pulling me from my thoughts, "do you wanna join our group for the project?"

I turned to see both Peter and Ned looking at me expectantly. Oh man, they can't be serious. Looking around the classroom, I noticed students rushing around, eager to be in a group with their friends.

Peter whistled and then waved a hand in front of my face, giving me a look of concern.

"You alright?" he asked with furrowed brows.

"Yeah, Parker, I'm fine," I answered, letting out a huff. "Do we need to be in groups cuz I work better alone," I asked.

Peter nodded his head, so I withheld a sigh before agreeing to join his group. It didn't look like there were any more groups available, anyways. Just my luck.

Grumbling internally, the three of us put our desks together and began to plan out the project; or, well, Peter and Ned began to plan and I just nodded along.

"We can use the lab at Stark Tower to perform the experiment. Mr. Stark won't mind," Peter stated, and Ned practically gushed at the idea. I raised an eyebrow at the teen, which caused him to blush.

"Sorry, I know you live there and stuff, so it's no big deal, but I've always wanted to go and never been, and oh, this is going to be so awesome!" Ned exclaimed, garnering the attention of many of our classmates. One, uppity looking kid in particular seemed attentive as he turned his whole body towards us.

"Did I hear right when you said the new kid here is actually living with Stark?" the guy asked disbelievingly.

"You heard right," I answered, "I'm living with Tony. He's my guardian."

"Bullshit!" the guy scoffed, giving a loud, fake laugh that gained more of our classmates' attention. A quick glance around showed the teacher deeply engrossed with a group on the other side of the room. Typical.

"Go away, Flash," Peter told the boy wearily, and I gave a snort of amusement.

"Your name is Flash? For reals?" I questioned, causing Flash to glare at me.

"Yeah, it is. What's your name?" Flashed asked, his chin jutting up.

"Harley," I replied, and Flash gave another loud, fake laugh.

"And you're making fun of _my_ name?" he asked rhetorically, eliciting a few chuckles from his no-doubt-idiot friends.

"Damn, you sure know how to pick 'em, Penis," Flash remarked with a sneer, and I raised an eyebrow at the childish name-calling. "You lie about having some internship with Stark, and now this kid claims Tony Stark is his actual guardian. Are you really that desperate to be liked, Newbie?" he addressed me.

I glared heatedly at Flash, understanding now that he was this dumb school's resident bully; and I'd already attracted his attention before my first day had ended. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"I'm not lying," I retorted firmly, "so keep your stupid opinion to yourself. Just because you're clearly not smart enough to get Tony's attention, doesn't mean you should bad mouth us to make yourself feel better."

Laughs filled room, kids seeming to delight in my response. The laughs finally gained the teacher's attention, thankfully, and she quickly got everyone focusing on their projects, or at least pretending to work on their projects. Flash, the douchebag kept glaring over at us, which let me know I had a new bully to worry about. Just like old times, I thought sarcastically.

Class ended and I headed to lunch. The food tasted just as crappy as my old school, but whatever. I attempted to sit by myself, but Peter once again thwarted me, introducing me to his girlfriend, Michelle or MJ.

Great, perfect Peter even had a girlfriend. Of course, he did.

A badass, scary girlfriend, I thought, as I attempted to avoid her intelligent eyes. I had a feeling she knew I wasn't a fan of her beloved boyfriend.

Lunch ended, and I eventually made it to my last class, PE. Walking into the locker room, I groaned internally at noting Flash was also in this class. I quickly got dressed and out of the room, not wanting to get hassled.

PE was as terrible as ever. If it was individual stuff, like running or push-ups, I did fine, but team sports were a pain because I just didn't work well with others. Today we were playing basketball, and I ended up on Flash's team. I decided to stay out of everyone's way, allowing Flash to lead the team and show off his skills. Well, skills was a stretch. The guy knew how to play, but I wouldn't have said he was any good. He was just aggressive, and most kids felt it was safer to get out of his way, like me. It was no surprise when our team won. Nor was it a surprise when he began to boast about his supposed skills, greatness, and yada yada yada.

The change out bell rang, and I let out a huge sigh of relief that the wretched day was over. I should've known better.

I was pulling my shirt on when I was suddenly shoved back into my locker. I grunted out in pain before glaring at Flash.

Really? Was this really happening? I couldn't manage one day at a new school without getting bullied?

"Oops, sorry Harley, didn't see you there," Flash remarked with a smirk as he watched me pick myself up.

"So, did Penis give you this Tony Stark idea or are you just desperate for friends, because I gotta warn you, that Parker and his friends are a bunch of losers," Flash explained. "You don't want to go hanging out with them, unless, of course, you're as much of a loser as they are."

I shook my head in disbelief at this guy. He didn't even know me and he was already judging.

"Peter didn't give me any ideas," I retorted angrily, not liking how he was bullying him as well. I couldn't understand why Peter hadn't done something about this yet. He was a freaking superhero for crying out loud. Why would he let some juvenile bully like Flash walk all over him when Peter could kick his ass with one arm tied behind his back?

"I met Tony years ago," I told Flash. "I recently became an orphan, so he took me in." Hopefully, he'd feel some pity and just leave me alone.

"Orphan?" the jerk scoffed. "Well, now it makes sense. You're in some home where nobody wants you, so you come up with some stupid story about Iron man adopting you. That's pretty pathetic, and no ones going to believe you, so you might as well give it up."

I clenched my fists at his words, the part of nobody wanting me hitting me harder than I'd like. Why did this have to be happening? I just wanted to go home.

"I'm _not_ lying," I declared through gritted teeth, "and you don't know a damn thing about me. Tony _is_ my guardian, and it's you who is the pathetic one. You're so insecure that you rush to put down anyone who might be better than you. You don't even know me, yet here you are hassling me because Tony Stark decided to adopt me. Yeah, I'm real lucky," I exclaimed sarcastically. "My family was murdered, but hey, at least I'm living with a billionaire."

Flash and I glared at each other, and I felt my rage building. I wasn't going to let anyone bully me, not anymore. I'd long since learned that rolling over and ignoring bullies never changed anything. Fighting back, however, at least left me with my pride intact.

"Did you just call _me_ pathetic?" Flash hissed as he got into my face.

"Back off," I growled, pushing the taller boy away from me. He pushed me back hard right into the lockers, and my shoulder flared up painfully.

"Or what?" Flash drawled as he got back into my face.

Screw this, I thought, and without another thought I pulled back my fist and punched Flash with everything I had, hearing a satisfying crunch and yell as the other boy fell to the ground.

"My nose!" Flash yelped, both hands cupping the broken appendage. His glare darkened before he launched himself at me. Cheers echoed around the room as we both tussled, and I landed more punches than I received, my mere weeks of training with Natasha paying off. When we were finally pulled apart by irate teachers, I smirked at seeing Flash's bloodied face.

"Yeah," I gasped heavily, glaring hatefully at the bully, "I did call you pathetic, and I stand by it. Diss me again, and you'll end up with more than a broken nose," I threatened before being roughly hauled out of the room.

**Tony's POV:**

Fighting on his first day of school. What the hell, I thought wearily as I walked into the office. Peter had told me everything had seemed fine, so what could have possibly happened between lunch and the end of school for Harley to have gotten into a fist fight?

"Are you here for Peter Parker?" the secretary asked, and I shook my head negatively.

"No, I'm here for another kid, Harley Keener," I explained. "I'm his guardian."

She nodded in understanding, thankfully not questioning the weirdness of me being marked as a guardian for two boys with different last names.

"Hey, Tony," I heard, and I looked to my right to see Harley gracing me with a sheepish grin. I rushed over, immediately taking stock of his injuries. His cheek was bruised, and his lip split, but otherwise he looked alright.

"You injured anywhere else?" I asked concernedly, and he shook his head negatively.

"You should see the other guy," the kid had the gall to boast, and I narrowed my eyes. The principal's office opened at that point, and I immediately recognized the boy Harley had fought with. It was Flash, the kid who was always bullying Peter (and who Peter wouldn't let me threaten). He looked to have a broken nose, a black eye, and busted lip. Harley did that?

"Hey, Flash, look who it is," Harley called out cheerfully as he gestured to me. "It's my guardian, y'know? The one you said didn't exist. Recognize him?"

Flash's eyes landed on me, and they widened fearfully. I frowned but refrained from tearing into him.

"Stark, that little shithead belongs to you?" a man suddenly snarled, getting right up into my face.

"Mr. Thompson!" the principal shouted, sounding rather appalled. Okay, idiot man is father to idiot son.

"If your charity case ever thinks of laying a hand on my son again"—the man started to threaten, his finger actually poking me in the chest. I deftly grabbed it, twisted it, and caused the irate man to sink to his knees in pain.

"Mr. Thompson, I'm going to let your measly attempt at a threat slide, but what I won't let slide are your disrespectful words about my kid," I spoke calmly, never once loosening my painful grasp on the man's hand. "So, here's what's going to happen. You're going to apologize, and you're going to mean it," I ordered, my grip tightening when it looked like the man wanted to protest. "Then, you're going to have a heart to heart with your son about staying away from Harley and Peter. If he finds that too difficult, and I hear that he's bullying my kids again, then you and I are going to have another chat," I threatened, my tone turning cold, "and next time I won't be so civil."

I released my hold, and the man rose to his feet, red-faced and out of breath. Giving him a pointed look, I turned my gaze to Harley before back to him. Clearing his throat noisily, and looking furious, the man turned towards Harley and gave a half-hearted apology. Honestly, it was probably a quarter-hearted, but I let it go.

Mr. Thompson looked at me once more, fury clear in his eyes, and I stared back. It didn't take long for the man to look away, grab hold of his son and storm out of the school.

"Holy shit, that was the coolest thing I've ever seen," Harley crowed, looking absolutely delighted.

"Language," I scolded, inwardly cringing at sounding like Cap.

Harley rolled his eyes at me, and I had to resist the urge to smack the kid upside the head.

"Mr. Stark, how about we discuss what happened in my office," the principal ordered more than suggested, and the teen and I dutifully went on in.

I let the principal lead the conversation, prodding Harley to get him to speak when it was his turn. Disappointment hit me when he recounted that he'd thrown the first punch, but I refrained from scolding him here. When it came to punishment, I argued in Harley's defense, claiming it was his first day and that he was going through a rough patch. My words worked enough to drop his 3-day suspension down to 2 days. A glance at Harley showed he didn't seem to care, and I felt further disappointment. Did this kid purposefully get in trouble?

We left the school and started to drive home, neither one of us speaking.

"You mad?" Harley asked ten minutes into the silence.

I pursed my lips, unsure of how to answer. "Yes…no—you know what," I declared, "it's time for us to talk. Friday, take control and drive us around the city until I tell you otherwise. Accept no calls unless it's an emergency and text Pep that the kid and I are talking so we'll be home late," I ordered, taking my hands off the wheel and turning my body towards Harley.

"W-what do you want to talk to me about?" he asked in obvious nervousness, and I took in a deep breath, readying myself for this conversation. This was going to happen one way or another, and the kid had no way of escaping this conversation. We'd drive around for as long as needed.

"You," I answered bluntly. "I want to talk to you, and I want nothing but honesty. No more evasion and no more denials. Friday will drive us around until you're due back at school if necessary," I threatened, somewhat exaggeratedly.

"Bullshit!" Harley exclaimed angrily.

"Language!" I snapped back sternly, causing him to give a short laugh.

"Really?" He asked in surprise.

"Yes, really," I replied firmly. "You need to watch your mouth. You're a genius, kid, so I think you're more than capable of expressing yourself without cursing. That clear?"

Harley's brows furrowed like he wasn't sure I was being serious, but when I repeated my question, he nodded. "Yeah, we're clear. Jeez, Tony, I had no idea language was such an issue with you. It never has been before."

I let out a sigh, not believing that we were having an argument about this when there were so many more important things I wanted to discuss with him.

"Well, I wasn't your guardian before," I asserted, and that seemed to startle the teen because he snapped his mouth shut. I took advantage of his silence to continue speaking. "Look, Harls, I don't want to fight or argue with you, but I _need_ you to talk to me. I know you're not okay," I stated, waving a hand to cut the boy off when he opened his mouth to speak.

"You're not okay," I repeated, "and _that's _okay. You've been through hell, and nobody expects you to be fine, least of all me. Do you hear me, bud? It's okay _not_ to be okay."

Harley's eyes were full of emotion as he processed what I said, and while I was glad he was finally listening, I hated the pain I saw. He had to talk, though. He couldn't keep things bottled up anymore.

Harley began to nod his head, looking down before looking back at me. "Talking won't change what happened," he whispered, his voice strained with emotion.

"It won't," I agreed softly, "but it helps to share the burden. I know talking about whatever happened hurts but bottling it up will make things worse. You can't tell me you're actually happy. I know you're not sleeping. Friday tells me that you wake up from nightmares, and that you order her not to tell us. You throw yourself into everything you do, whether its tech work or training with Nat because you're trying to distract yourself. Your temper is simmering, and you've snapped at everybody. Hell, I know Flash is a jerk, but from what I heard, that idiot didn't deserve the beat down you gave him."

I fell silent, allowing Harley time to think over what I said. When he finally managed to look at me once more, my heart ached at the tears I saw welling up in his eyes.

"It hurts," he admitted, his hand going up to his chest. "It's like I've got this balloon inside of me, and it's just seconds away from popping, and if that happens, I'm so afraid that I'll fall apart and never be okay again."

"That balloon is all your emotions waiting to come out, and it's perfectly normal," I explained calmly. "Falling apart is expected."

Harley shook his head at that, looking seconds away from bursting into tears, so I reached out and placed a comforting hand on his forearm.

"Falling apart is not a bad thing. It's actually healthy, and nothing to be embarrassed about," I told him kindly.

"But what if I can't be fixed?" he asked in a small voice.

"Kiddo, there is _nothing_ wrong with you," I stated in a firm tone. "You've been through several traumatic events, and like I said before, it's not just normal, but expected for you to not be okay."

"But if I fall apart I'll be broken, and what if I can't be put back together?" he insisted in a watery tone.

"Harls," I spoke softly, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, "if you fall apart or break, then I will be there to put you back together. I'm a mechanic, remember?"

Harley gave a small smile at that, giving a loud sniff as a tear finally fell down his cheek. I gently wiped the tear away, saddened yet relieved at the display of emotion. Harley hadn't cried once since he'd arrived, and that had concerned me deeply.

"Tony," the boy called, sounding desperate, "I just want to be okay. I want to be normal like before. I'm so tired of hurting, of being angry, of not sleeping, and…and I just-I just-I just…" Harley gripped onto my arm tightly and began to lean towards me. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him in for a tight hug. This was the first time I'd hugged Harley since he'd arrived, and I relished in being able to provide this kid with any amount of comfort.

He seemed to relax in my arms, one of his hands grabbing onto my jacket. He didn't cry, but I could hear the shuddering breaths that he was taking. He was still holding things in, but I was okay with that. This was progress.

I reluctantly let go when he began to pull away, but I kept a hold of him anyways, one of my hands on his left shoulder.

"It's going to take time, but you will be okay again," I assured him with confidence. "You're not broken or unfixable. You've been through hell, you're suffering, and I'm going to help you through this…but, I need you to cooperate with me for that to happen," I added gently. "Talk to me, buddy," I pleaded earnestly.

I watched my kid's face closely, watching a myriad of emotions cross his face. He was struggling to open up. He wanted so badly to be strong and independent, but he didn't realize that being strong didn't mean doing things alone.

"Please don't make me talk right now, Tony," Harley begged. "I admit that I'm not okay, and maybe I need help, but I just…I just can't talk right now."

"Harley," I sighed sadly, wishing I could just let this go, but knowing he needed to talk. "You _need_ to talk to someone. The time for waiting is over. If you don't want to talk to me, then talk to Pepper, or I can set you up with a therapist."

Harley shook his head rapidly, and I withheld another sad sigh. I had to stand firm. I had to get this kid to talk, or he'd just continue to spiral downwards.

The teen gave a groan that turned into a whimper, his eyes shutting tight as he no doubt struggled to hold back emotions. Damn, I swear the more time I spent with this boy, the more I realized how much like me he was.

"I'm so tired," Harls finally stated, and I gave a sympathetic nod. "I keep dreaming about my mom and sister, how they died, and how I found them. They must've been so scared," he whispered, his tone haunted. "What if they suffered? The doctors wouldn't tell me anything, and I have no idea if they died fast or slow. All I remember is how cold their bodies felt…and the blood…the blood was everywhere. It was on my hands, it soaked into my jeans, and the smell was overpowering—like a copper, metal smell. How can I make these memories go away?" he asked, a desperate tinge to his tone.

My mind raced with what I could possibly say, but I couldn't come up with a single thing that would help. Yeah, I knew talking helped, but I was cursing myself for not having fully thought this through. What could I say to make those nightmares go away? Because, honestly, I knew they'd never disappear. They might decrease in number, but I couldn't take away the horror he'd seen.

Opening my mouth, all I could manage to say was, "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, bud. It never should've happened, and you never should've had to deal with it alone. You have no idea how badly I wished I could've been there for you."  
A few tears fell down his cheeks as he nodded, and once more I pulled the boy in for a hug, wishing there was more I could do.

"What can I do to help? What do you need from me?" I questioned, desperate to soothe his pain.

Harley shrugged, so I just tightened my hold, hesitating briefly before placing a light kiss to his temple.

"Can we please just go home, Tony?" the teen asked, and I immediately agreed, unable to force him to talk anymore.

"Sure, bud," I replied before instructing Friday to drive home. The ride home was silent, and I periodically eyed the despondent kid. He looked exhausted, his head leaning against the window. I thought of broaching the topic of him seeing a therapist, but I already knew he'd turn me down, his temper no doubt making a show if I pushed. It's how I would've reacted a few years back. I mulled over how to help, but nothing came to mind, and I hated the helplessness I felt.

What the hell was I thinking? How in god's name was I going to take care of a traumatized teen when I myself was a mess? A part of me wondered if I should let child services take him. Maybe he'd end up with a family better suited to helping him.

He'd run from three separate foster families, though. Stupid! There had to be a reason he ran, and how could I expect some stranger to be able to help Harley?

We arrived home, and as we rode the elevator up, I decided to speak.

"Thank you for talking with me," I spoke honestly. "I really appreciate you trusting me with this. I know there's still more to talk about, and I'm not pushing you today, but know that this discussion isn't over."

Harley grimaced, looking down at the floor, his shoulders drooping.

"Hey, I'm not doing this to make your life miserable," I assured him, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Believe me when I say I'm doing all this for your own good. I'm just looking to help you."

"I know," he replied hoarsely, and I patted his shoulder before dropping the subject.

"Oh, one more thing, Gizmo," I had to add on a lighter note as we stepped out of the elevator, "I'm going to let today's fight go, but I won't be so forgiving next time, you hear me? I'd understand if you were just defending yourself, but I don't ever want to hear about you starting another fight."

A light blush colored the teen's cheeks, and he gave me an apologetic look as he nodded his head. "Yeah, I understand, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

I smiled, letting him know I believed him.

"You were pretty badass, y'know," I complimented. "I take it Nat's training has paid off?"

Harley gave a light laugh. "Yeah, it has. Pretty sure Flash will think twice before picking a fight with me. You were badass too, Tony. I thought Flash's dad was going to wet himself."  
I smirked. "Well, no one messes with my kids."

Pepper arrived soon after, and she pulled Harley into a hug, eliciting the first real smile of the day. Maybe she'd have better luck getting him to talk, I thought hopefully. All I knew was that I needed help because there was no way I'd be able to help the hurting teen on my own.


	5. Chapter5

**Chapter 5: I'm fine, so quit asking!**

**Harley's POV:**

I arrived home from another grueling day of school and tentatively stepped out of the elevator, letting out a relieved sigh when I didn't see anyone. Throwing my backpack to the ground, I asked Friday where Tony was, planning on staying as far away from the hovering man as possible.

"Boss is in his room packing," the AI answered promptly, and both my eyebrows rose, a small smile forming on my face. Pepper was gone on a business trip, and if Tony was packing then that meant he was going on a trip. _This_ would mean that I'd be home alone with nobody to haggle me about my feelings.

It'd been about a week and a half since I kicked Flash's ass and Tony and I had a heart to heart. My cheeks burned red in remembrance. I couldn't believe I'd whined to Tony like some sniveling baby. What must he think of me? Why would he want to keep a kid who couldn't even control his emotions?

Jeez, and I can't believe I'd cried! Thank god I got him to stop the conversation when I did or I would've probably started bawling next, and I never would've lived that down, I thought in embarrassment.

I threw myself down on the living room couch, and stared up at the high ceiling, rolling my eyes when I spotted some strands of web and footprints.

Tony was different, I couldn't help but think, frowning as I recalled him pulling me in for a hug. It wasn't bad different, I guess, but it was a bit unsettling.

He was softer, less sarcastic, and…nicer? I mean, he'd always been nice to me, but in a smart-ass way, which has never bothered me as I'm the same way. I tease him and he teases back. I'd give him a hard time, and he'd affectionately call me a "little shit head". It was our thing, and I loved it.

Since I started living wit him, though, he'd been downright gentle with me. Not as much teasing or name-calling. He didn't razzle me like he used to. I felt like he was babying me, and I hated it. Did I really look so pathetic that he had to treat me like a little kid? How long until he grew tired of me?

I mean, it was nice at times. Talking had been a little helpful, and the hug had been comforting…but I was too old for that stuff. I shouldn't need to talk about my feelings or be hugged and comforted. I had to be independent.

"Harls!" I heard Tony yell out, and I held back a groan as I sat up.

"Yeah?" I asked warily, hoping he wasn't going to push me to talk again.

"I hate to say this, but I need you to pack a bag," he announced, looking a little frazzled.

I froze, blood running cold as I looked at him with wide eyes. Was this it? Was he kicking me out? My heart thundered in my chest, and I fought hard to swallow the panic I was feeling.

"Uh, where am I going?" I questioned, unable to hide my concern.

It was obvious Tony heard it, because his eyebrows scrunched in sudden confusion before he seemed to realize something.

"Oh, shit," he muttered to himself. "No, bud, it's not—I'm not kicking you out or anything. I've got to leave for Avengers crap, and Peter's aunt, May, has agreed to let you stay with her for a week or so," he informed me, and I immediately felt myself relaxing.

He's not getting rid of me. He's not tired of me yet. I felt my racing heart beginning to slow, and that's when I realized what he'd just said. He wanted me to stay with Peter. Peter Parker. Perfect Peter Parker. For a whole damn week. He could _not_ be serious.

"Tony, come on," I argued, "I'm fifteen. I don't need a babysitter. I can take care of myself just fine. I mean, I did live on the streets for a whole month just fine."

"Okay, one, talking about being homeless will never be a good argument," Tony retorted, "and two, fifteen is not old enough to stay home alone for a week. Please don't fight me on this, Harls, I've really got to get going, and this isn't up for argument," the man pleaded, and it was only the desperation in his eyes that kept me from continuing to argue.

"Fine," I grumbled, heading to my room to pack. This was going to be awful, I couldn't help but think. Living for a whole week with Peter was going to be torture.

Be nice, I scolded myself, as I stuffed clothes into a bag. He's really not _that_ bad.

I let out a sigh as I headed out of my room to where Tony was waiting. He gave me a smile before leading me down to the garage and his car.

"You don't have to drop me off," I protested. "I can"—

"You've never been to Pete's house, and I want to talk with May before I go," Tony interjected, eliciting another sigh from me. Pulling out headphones, I slipped them on and turned on a random song, hoping he wouldn't bother me.

I wondered how it'd be living with Peter. Hopefully, he wouldn't bother me much, but that was unlikely. I really didn't get why he tried so hard to be friendly with me when I hadn't tried really hard to hide my annoyance with him. Except when around Tony, I ignored and barely spoke to him.

He wasn't a bad guy, per se, but…okay, if I was being honest, Peter seemed like a fun person. I just couldn't bring myself to be nice to him because he was threatening my existence!

Fine, existence was an exaggeration, but his relationship with Tony was making things difficult. Why would Tony keep me when he had Peter? Peter, who had a guardian and only visited for fun. Peter, who was a superhero and a genius. Peter, who had been through his own trauma, but seemed to be doing just fine. I never saw Tony asking Peter if he was okay or if he needed to talk. Peter didn't stress everybody out.

Stupid, perfect spider-boy.

We pulled up to a curb outside an old, unkept looking building. I raised an eyebrow wondering why Peter and his aunt were in such a cruddy looking place. Tony loved showering people he cared about with money, so I was surprised he hadn't moved them somewhere nicer. Maybe they hadn't accepted? Peter did seem to have a hard time accepting any gifts or money from Tony.

Walking up three flights of stairs because the elevator was broken, we arrived at apartment 33. Tony knocked, and in less than three seconds, the door was opened by a good-looking woman. She was Peter's aunt?

She invited us in, and introduced herself, her hand held out.

Putting on a charming grin, I shook her hand while saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Parker, and can I just say, you are the hottest aunt I have ever met. How exactly did you end up with such a nerdy looking ne—Hey! Watch the hair!" I yelled out after Tony had smacked the back of my head.

"Control your mouth, Gremlin, and behave yourself," the engineer scolded, looking rather exasperated.

"I'll be an absolute angel, I promise," I assured him, sporting an innocent smile.

Loud laughter garnered out attention, and I felt flattered when May said, "Tony Stark, why didn't you tell me you had a son?" She really thought I was Tony's son?

"Oh, no," Tony instantly responded, shaking his head negatively. "This little brat is not mine, thank god," he joked, patting my back.

I gave a laugh, even though inside I felt no humor. His words had hurt. He'd said thank god, like he was happy I wasn't his. Did this mean he didn't want me? Would he realize how much better things were without me this next week? Would he be ready to get rid of me when he came back?

Maybe I should have just talked to him. That's what he wanted, right?

Jeez, this was driving me mad! When would I know what was going to happen to me? Why couldn't he just tell me whether he wanted me or not? Why didn't I just ask?

The adults exchanged some words, Tony thanking May for taking care of me before warning me once more to behave myself. I rolled my eyes, he said goodbye, and then he was gone.

A lump formed in my throat as I stared at the closed door, and I had to fight the sudden crazy urge to run after him. Couldn't he have taken me with him? Did he really have Avengers work, or was he just lying? What if he left and never came back?

My heart began to pound once more, and I was so focused on the door that I jumped when I felt a soft hand land on my shoulder. Whirling around, I shot May a forced smile.

"Are you alright?" she asked in concern, and I quickly nodded my head.

"Of course!" I responded with mock enthusiasm. "So, uh, where am I going to be sleeping?" I questioned, wanting her to not push.

May smiled kindly as she led me down a single hallway and opened the door at the end. The room was clearly Peter's, movie and science posters lining the walls, legos and old computer parts on the floor and his desk. There was also a bunk bed, and I inwardly groaned. I was going to have to share with Peter? I'd rather sleep on the couch.

"I'm sorry," May spoke apologetically, "but there are only two bedrooms. I know you must be used to so much more living with Tony"—she attempted to explain, but I gave her an appreciative grin.

"Don't worry at all, Mrs. Parker," I assured her. "I shared a room with my sister until…well, I grew up in a small house, so I have no problem sharing. If Peter has a problem, though, I wouldn't mind at all sleeping on the couch."

"Oh, no, Peter was very excited to learn you were staying over," May stated, and I wasn't sure if she was telling me the truth or not. "I did ask him to clean his room, though, but—well, boys," she sighed with a shrug. "By the way, please call me May."

I nodded before walking into the room, setting my bag down, and looking around awkwardly. How as I going to pass the time? There was no lab here for me to work in, no Natasha to train with, and no arcade games for me to fix. All I had was my drawing pad.

"Peter is on his way home," May stated. "I've told him that he's going to have to cut down on his hero thing while you're here, so you're not alone for so long."

"You didn't have to do that," I stated honestly. "I have no problem entertaining myself, and I promise not to destroy your home. I really don't want you having to go out of your way to accommodate me."

"You're sweet," she responded, "but it's no trouble, I assure you. Now, make yourself at home while I attempt to whip up some dinner."

"Let me help," I rushed to say, having heard from Peter about her less than stellar cooking abilities. "I used to cook all the time at home," I told her, and she looked somewhat relieved as she accepted.

Peter arrived home through the window right as we were finishing up. Pulling his mask off, he grinned widely at us.

"Hey, sorry I'm late, but there was"—

"Superhero stuff, I know," May replied, managing to sound both proud and weary at the same time.

Peter's smile faltered a little, turning apologetic before his eyes settled on me.

"Hey, Harley, how you doing?" he asked nicely.

"I'm good," I answered evenly. "I helped your aunt cook dinner, so if you're hungry…," I trailed off, knowing he had to be starving. Tony had explained the hero's super-fast metabolism, and how he constantly was eating. I, myself had witnessed it at the tower. Tony had snacks and drinks stashed all over the tower, and if he didn't feel Peter was eating enough, he'd throw him a power bar or a protein shake. Peter always looked back at Tony with such awe and gratefulness, as if he still couldn't believe that Tony cared about him.

That drove me mad. Peter continued to act like he wasn't aware of how much he meant to Tony, when it was so obvious to me. Tony was always raving about Peter when he wasn't around, and when he was around, Tony was always taking care of him. He took care of his injuries, fed him, gave him tons of suit updates and new tech, gave him new clothes, and pretty much he did anything Peter needed.

To top it all off, he was so affectionate with Peter. I remembered when I first met Tony, and he'd shoved me away for standing too close. With Peter, though, he was always ruffling his hair, patting his back, and wrapping an arm around him. A couple times I'd walked by them when they were watching a movie to see Peter laying with his head in Tony's lap!

It boggled my mind that Tony not only allowed this but seemed to initiate it as well. Human touch wasn't something I craved. My family hadn't been the hugging and coddling type. We loved each other, but we showed it through teasing and playing around with one another.

Why was I so jealous of Peter, then? I didn't want to be coddled like him, did I? I didn't need the hugs or pats on the back or the constant praise. I just—I just wanted…what did I want?

Peter ran to his room and back in under a minute, sporting Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and one of his famous science pun t-shirts. I raised an amused eyebrow at him as I gave his pants a pointed look. Blushing somewhat, Peter informed me of how he'd gotten them, and when I found out it was Tony who'd given them to him, I no longer found it so funny.

Dinner was filled with Peter's voice, regaling us with his Spider-man exploits. Once again, my jealousy surged. What I would give to have his abilities. To have super strength and the ability to stick to walls. To be able to help people. To be a hero like Tony. Then, everything would be perfect.

When dinner ended, we all worked to clean up, and then I followed Peter into his room.

"Do you want the top or bottom bunk?" he asked.

"Bottom," I answered, and he nodded.

We both stood here awkwardly, and I suddenly wondered if he was as oblivious to my dislike of him as I thought.

"Er, so what do you do for fun?" the teen asked nervously. "I know you're not much into TV or movies. I've got some old computers that we could work on, or legos." He finished with a sheepish smile, and I felt my previous anger softening. It was hard to stay upset with someone so nice.

"Let's take a look at those computers," I stated, eliciting a relieved smile from Peter.

Living with the Parkers wasn't as stressful as I thought it'd be. They were both really easy going, and they went out of their way to make sure I was comfortable. Even though May had said Peter wouldn't go out as Spider-man much, I'd argued on his behalf, urging Peter to go out. I knew if I were him I'd want to spend as much time as possible helping people.

While Peter went out, I got to know May more. I didn't realize until the week was mostly over that she'd cut hours from work to ensure that I'd never be alone. I'll admit to being extremely touched, but also guilty.

May was an amazing woman. She was so kind, understanding, and motherly. She seemed to love running a hand through my hair, laughing when I complained about her messing it up. We spent time playing board games, talking, and watching TV. I wasn't much of a tv or movie fan, but that was because I'd never had time to watch. When I wasn't in my lab, at school, or taking care of my sister, I was doing odd jobs around the town to earn what money I could for my family. Watching with May, though, was fun.

Our talks were usually light, me asking about her life and then her asking me about my past. She wanted to know what Tennessee was like, what my life had been like, and how I'd met Tony. She'd been shocked, amused, and horrified by the story, cursing Tony before telling me how Peter and Tony had met.

Except for the one night I'd woken up screaming from a nightmare, she'd never pushed me to talk, or asked how I was handling everything. I was grateful.

While my time here was more enjoyable than I thought, I still missed Tony and even Pepper desperately. I'd spoken with both of them, each time feeling deep relief when they assured me they'd be back soon. The day they told me they'd both be home I was overjoyed, unable to stop from giving both adults a large grin.

They weren't abandoning me! They weren't getting rid of me!

I was so ecstatic, that I'd even impulsively hugged Tony when he'd come to pick me up. I'd immediately regretted the childish action, but since my face was so red I'd held on longer than I wanted to in order to hide my embarrassment.

**Tony's POV:**

As exhausted as I was, I couldn't help but feel renewed when I felt Harley's arms wrap around me. This was the first time he'd initiated a hug since the day he showed up, and I couldn't help but see it as progress.

"Hey, bud," I greeted cheerfully, "ready to head home?"

"Definitely!" the boy replied with a large grin, which faltered when he looked back at May and Peter. "Not that I didn't have a lovely time, May, but"—

May laughed away the boy's hasty explanation. "I understand, Harley," she stated, coming over and pulling the rascal in for a hug. "It was a pleasure having you. Feel free to stop by whenever you'd like."

I thanked May profusely, telling her we'd catch up later. I then bid the spiderling goodbye, inviting him over tomorrow before taking my young tech whiz home.

The drive home was spent with Harley telling me what he'd been up to. I was happy that he seemed to get along well with May, and that she'd been able to get Harley to do something other than work and draw. I was disappointed, though, that he hadn't really spent much time with Peter. Did they not like each other? I'd never noticed any tension between the two, but I guess I hadn't been looking for it either. The kids had so many similarities, I figured they'd be best buds. They went to the same school, hung out at home, and had now lived together for a week, yet Harley barely ever mentioned Peter. It was concerning.

We reached home the same time Pepper pulled in, and before I could even greet her, her arms were wrapped around me.

"Two weeks away is far too long," she complained, giving me a quick kiss on the lips, no doubt aware of the young eyes watching us. "Remind me to never agree to that long of a work trip."

"Happily," I replied with a smile, letting her go so she could pull Harley in for a hug. The teen looked surprised, but quickly overcame it, blushing as he returned her hug.

"I missed you, sweetie," Pepper stated, and Harley's cheeks reddened even more, an unidentifiable emotion entering his eyes as he replied somewhat emotionally, "Missed you too."

Grinning widely, I put an arm around both of them as we took the elevator up to our floor.

"I say we order in tonight and just relax," I stated, and Pepper let out a contented sigh as she pulled off her high heels.

"That sounds wonderful," she spoke with a happy sigh. "Let me take a shower, and then we can talk about what we all did this past week."

"Sounds good to me," I replied. "Harls?"

"Yeah, sounds good," he responded, and I was gratified to see a genuine smile rather than a forced one on his young face.

"Maybe you can teach us one of those card games you played with May," I suggested, feeling joy when Harley nodded in agreement.

The rest of the day passed by too quickly, but it was the best evening I'd had in a while. There were no distractions. It was just the three of us, junk food, a roaring fire, background music, and a deck of cards. We played various games, all of us winning some. As we played we talked about what we'd been up to, my shenanigans taking up most the time.

I loved this. The three of us here being a family. It was pleasant, and I suddenly found myself longing for more moments like this.

Not for the first time did I contemplate leaving the city and buying a plot of land in the middle of nowhere. I could take Pepper and Harley and we could just live our lives like regular people, away from the hustle and bustle of city life. I could retire for reals and Pepper could cut down on her duties. We could focus on helping Harley more, and maybe even have a kid of our own.

This fantasy seemed to settle in the back of my mind, reality always pushing it away. Or, specifically, Peter. I couldn't leave Peter. His life was here, so I couldn't take him with me, and if he and May couldn't come with me, then I would stay.

Responsibility was the next thing keeping me here. Those goddamn Accords put me in charge of the Avengers. I was now responsible for the world's safety, and for figuring out some way of getting the Rogues home.

Pepper and Harley gave a delighted laugh, and I focused once more on the present. I'd worry about everything else later. Right now, I'd simply enjoy the moment.

Days passed, and with it the blissfulness of that first night back. Every time I thought Harley was doing better, it seemed like there was a set-back. He wasn't sleeping again, nightmares waking him or keeping him from sleeping. Every time he got up, I got up, and I just brought the kid down to the lab.

We worked together in silence, and once I noticed the tension leave his shoulders, I'd start a conversation. I'd always start out casual before attempting to broach what was keeping him up. Each time I'd be shut down and so I'd back off.

With both of us losing sleep, I suppose it was only natural that things would come to a head. Yesterday, I was pulled from one of the few board meetings I attended to go and pick up Harley. He'd gotten into a shouting match with his robotics teacher, which had ended with Harley cursing the man out, knocking everything off his lab table, and storming out of the room. A passing teacher who'd heard the commotion had stopped Harley from leaving the school, dragging him to the principal's office.

When I'd arrived at the school and entered the principal's office, I was greeted with a fuming teenager, outraged teacher, and exasperated principal. Internally groaning, I sat myself next to Harley, gripping his knee to silence him as I listened to his robotics teacher.

After hearing what the temperamental teen said, I couldn't stop from giving him a disappointed look. Like the fight with Flash, this seemed to be another instance of Harley overreacting to a situation. Yes, his teacher sounded a bit pompous, and probably didn't appreciate being corrected by Harley, but that didn't give the kid a reason to belittle the man in front of the entire class.

After the teacher finished speaking, all eyes turned to Harley, awaiting his side of the story, but he refused to speak. He simply glared down at his knees.

"Harley," I addressed sternly, "now would be a good time to explain yourself." Petulant green eyes locked on mine, and I frowned deeply, knowing that he wasn't going to speak.

Taking in a deep breath to calm my own anger, I turned towards both adults, apologizing for Harley's behavior. Neither one seemed satisfied, their eyes constantly flicking to the sulking teen next to me. I couldn't blame the principal when he handed out Harley's punishment, three days suspension followed by two weeks detention.

The second his sentence was given Harley was out of his seat and out of the door. I called out to him, but he ignored me and simply walked out of the school in the direction of my car. Anger building, I felt my face flushing in embarrassment as all eyes turned towards me. I could see their judgment, and that concerned me.

"Mr. Stark," the principal spoke disapprovingly, "I will be in contact with child services. I'm concerned that Harley's placement with you may not be in his best interest. Clearly you're out of your league"—

I cut the man off with a cold look and found some satisfaction in seeing him pale. "You don't know a thing about what Harley has been through, so you have no right to judge," I spoke in a hard tone. "Call child services if you want, but I will fight for that boy tooth and nail. I guarantee you no one will try as hard as I am to take care of him." With those words, I left, scolding myself for letting my temper get the best of me.

I took several calming breaths, but my temper continued to simmer, especially when I saw Harley give me an impatient look as I neared the car. Gritting my teeth, I got in, slamming the door shut before peeling out of the parking lot.

"Well, somebody seems angry," Harley remarked sarcastically, and I shot him a frigid look before replying just as sarcastically, "Well, gee, I wonder why that would be."

The brat just smirked, and I bit down on my tongue to keep from saying something regretful. Don't be like Dad, I repeated over and over in my head. He always let his anger get the best of him, saying things that tore down my self-worth.

I turned the radio on while Harley put headphones on. I noticed they weren't turned on, but I was grateful for the reprieve. By the time we got home, I once more felt calm.

Stepping out of the elevator, I ordered Harls to sit himself down at the kitchen table. I debated whether I should remain standing or seated, and settled for sitting down next to him, both our chairs turned so we were looking at each other.

"Explain," I demanded firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Harley's gaze was petulant again as he stared up at me, and it almost looked like he was going to refuse when he opened his mouth.

"My teacher said it all," he stated with an uncaring shrug. "Guy was an arrogant ass who didn't like it when I corrected him. He insulted me, so I insulted him back. Not my fault I've got the more creative language," he finished with a cocky smirk that had me gritting my teeth.

"Or maybe it's because he's an adult and mature enough not to curse out a student," I retorted, jaw clenching when I received another uncaring shrug.

I had to sit back and once more fight to rein in my simmering temper. The lack of sleep recently was catching up causing my control to slip. I was conscientious enough, though to realize that Harley was no doubt suffering from the same problem. His eyes were a dull green color with dark circles under them, reminding me of the internal turmoil he was going through.

"Dammit, Gizmo," I expressed in frustration, leaning back in my chair as I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm feeling completely out of my depth here, and I need your help. I thought we'd gotten past this weeks ago, but you've shut me out since we last talked, and I'm once again not giving you an out. We are going to sit here until you tell me about your nightmares."

"What the fuck do my nightmares have to do with what happened at school?" Harley exclaimed in outrage, and I slammed a hand down onto the table, causing him to jump in shock.

"Watch your language," I growled, in no mood to be disrespected by him. "Your nightmares keep you from sleeping. Lack of sleep makes you tired. Being tired leads to your temper tantrums. Hence, talking about nightmares will lessen nightmares and thus lessen the temper tantrums. Now, speak," I ordered, my eyes boring into him.

"No," Harley replied, making to stand up. I stopped that motion, though, when I stood up faster, placing my hands on the armrests of his seat.

"Try again," I spoke sternly, furious and shocked by his outright refusal. I didn't ask much of this kid, but I damn well expected to be obeyed when I did.

"_No_," Harley hissed again, his face a mask of fury.

I swallowed, hands fingernails digging into the wood of the arm rests as I swallowed an automatic retort. No yelling. Don't be like Dad. Take time to calm down.

"You're grounded," I informed him, and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"You are confined to your room except for meal times," I continued. "No lab time, no training with Natasha, and no going to the arcade."

The teen's face turned red with anger as he ground out, "How long?"

"A month," I responded, feeling some satisfaction at his widening eyes.

"That's ridiculous!" he shouted in outrage. "You're grounding me for a _month_ because I won't tell you about my nightmares? When did you turn into such a dictator?"

"I'm grounding you for your behavior at school and for your continued disrespect," I corrected with forced calm, releasing my hold on the arm rests to stand up and cross my arms.

Harley immediately got to his feet, his fists clenched as he snapped, "You have no right to ground me or force me to do anything! You're not my dad!"

I felt stung by his words, so I lashed out, "You're right, I'm not, because I'm actually here unlike that deadbeat who left you!"

Harley's face went white, and my anger immediately vanished, guilt replacing it. Damn it, damn it, damn it, I thought, furious with myself for the loss of control.

"Harls," I addressed, "I'm sor"—

"Forget it," the kid stated bitterly. "I'm going to my room."

I couldn't bring myself to stop him, too ashamed of my words to say anything. I'd have to wait for his temper to calm before I could properly apologize.

I threw myself down into the chair, burying my head in my hands.

What the hell was I doing?

How was I going to fix this?

What was I going to do about child services if they investigated this? How could I convince them that I was a suitable guardian when I couldn't even get the kid to talk to me?

I'm failing. I'm failing him like my own father failed me.

I felt sick to my stomach and was horrified as I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so helpless. I was losing Harley, and that terrified me. What would happen to him if I couldn't get him to open up?


	6. Chapter6

**Chapter 6: I need your advice**

**May's POV:**

I sat on my couch watching re-runs of _Friends_ on one of my rare days off. I wished it could've been on a weekend so I could spend time with Peter, but I'd take what I could get. Asking for reduced hours when I'd been watching Harley had resulted in little time off now. It had been worth it, though.

A soft knock on my door sounded, and I groaned, wondering who it could be. I swear, if it's the old man from down the hallway wanting to borrow more Vaseline, I'd just slam the door in his face. I really didn't want to think about why he needed so much.

Opening the door, I was shocked to see Tony standing there, a small smile adorning his face.

Panic instantly hit me, and as he walked in, I immediately asked, "What's wrong? Is Peter okay?" Tony only ever visited when Peter was home, so for him to be here when Peter was at school was a bad sign.

"Woah, woah, settle down May," Tony responded quickly. "Peter is totally fine. Honestly, I'm not here about him at all. I'm actually here because I need some advice."

I blinked, completely caught off guard. This was the last thing I would've expected. What could Tony Stark possibly need advice from _me_ about?

"Um, let's sit down," I replied awkwardly, leading him back towards the family room. I turned off the TV and quickly scanned the room, feeling embarrassment at how messy the room was. With the hours I'd been working, I hadn't really gotten around to cleaning anything. Thankfully, Tony didn't seem to mind, but that was the norm, I guessed. He never seemed to care what the apartment looked like.

"What can I help you with?" I questioned curiously, noting the normally confident billionaire shifting nervously in his seat. Upon closer inspection, I noticed he looked rather stressed, dark circles under his eyes that I had a feeling weren't from late nights in the lab.

"It's Harley," he answered, and I immediately nodded in understanding. I'd met Harley recently when he'd stayed here for a week. Pepper had been away on business and Tony had been on Avengers business, so he'd asked me to watch Harley. I'd taken an instant liking to the teen, his smart mouth and cocky smile reminding me of a certain genius. I'd instantly seen through his 100-watt smile and nonchalant attitude, though. He was hurting.

I'd heard about the teen from Peter when he'd first arrived, but Tony had given me more info when I'd agreed to watch him. My heart had ached terribly at hearing what the boy had suffered through, and I'd promised Tony I'd do whatever I could to help him. He'd had a nightmare while here, but he'd refused to be comforted, and he'd refused to talk. He was good at deflection, and his walls were thick. Behind that façade, though, was a sweet, caring boy, and when he wasn't constantly pretending to be okay, it showed through. Again, I felt reminded of the man sitting next to me.

I still couldn't understand why Tony was here, though. What sort of advice could he need?

"You have a teenage boy," Tony began, and I just raised an eyebrow, causing the man to give a sheepish smile. I couldn't hold back my own smile, unused to seeing him so unsure of himself.

"Okay, you have experience dealing with a kid whose been through hell," he stated, and suddenly everything made sense. "You were there for Peter when his parents died, and then when his uncle died. I know Petey isn't perfect, but he'd doing pretty well considering everything. How did you help him? Because—because I'm floundering here. I've been trying my damndest to help Harley, but nothing seems to work. That kid is suffering, and I feel so freaking useless. I don't know what to do, May, so please, _please_, any advice you have would be extremely helpful."

I digested his words, feeling touched that he felt I could be of any help, and also pained at how much he was clearly hurting. I understood his feelings very well because I'd felt the same way after Peter's parents died and then after Ben died. I wasn't so sure I could help him, though, because our situations weren't exactly identical.

"Tony," I addressed compassionately, "I'm honored that you've come to me, but I don't know how much I can help you."

The genius's shoulders drooped, a hand running through his unusually messy hair.

"Please, May," he outright begged, "anything you can tell me would be helpful, I swear."

I looked at Tony and couldn't help but marvel at this situation. When this man had first entered my life, I hadn't been impressed. I'd seen the news reels over the years from his drunken playboy days to his iron man days, and none of it had really endeared me to him. In my mind, Tony Stark was an arrogant, spoiled, rich man who felt he could do whatever he wanted. I respected his work as Iron Man and acknowledged that he had saved our lives during the alien invasion, but I also saw his hero work as Stark on a power trip.

When he'd been here to offer Peter the fake scholarship I'd wanted to tell the man no, but I'd known that he was Peter's hero, so I hadn't been able to bring myself to kick him out before Peter got home. Things spiraled, and Peter got an internship (which I now knew was his spidermanning), and my dislike of the man grew as I saw how stressed and worn out Peter was. I hadn't known that my nephew was doing that to himself.

After I found out about Spider-man, I'd gone straight to Stark Tower and demanded to speak with the man. The second he'd shown up I'd punched him square in the face, leaving him with a black eye. I'd torn into him, berating him for endangering Peter's life and dragging him into his fight with Captain America. Tony had taken my lecture silently, and I'd been shocked when instead of having me removed from the property, he'd given me a genuine apology, assuring me that he'd never endanger Peter's life that way again.

When I'd calmed down, he then had explained to me all he was doing to help Peter, such as all the protections in his suits and the training. He gave me a tablet with direct access to Peter's suit schematics and vitals, and while I didn't understand everything, I appreciated how open and honest he was being with me. By the end of the conversation, we'd agreed on weekly phone calls or meetings to discuss Peter. He would update me on Spider-man shenanigans, and I would bring up school.

As time went on, the great Tony Stark became simply Tony, my co-parent, my friend. Tony loved Peter. I could hear that love in his tone and see it in the way he spoke. When I saw him and Peter together, it was so obvious how close the two were, and I was so grateful.

"To be honest," I finally answered, "you are a large reason that Peter is so stable right now. After Ben died, he and I were both a wreck," I recounted mournfully. "He completely shut down, isolating himself in his room for two weeks. He barely spoke, barely ate, and I could tell he wasn't sleeping. I realize now that he was dealing with a lot of guilt, but all I could do for him at the time was the bare minimum. I pushed him to eat and sleep. One day, though, it was like a flip switched and he started to come out of his depression. It was Spiderman," I explained, "but again, I didn't know that at the time. I just thought he was slowly healing."

Tony frowned, his eyes turning sympathetic as he looked at me.

"All I could do was be there for him whenever he needed me, whether it was to talk or just hang out," I continued. "I gave him space, not coming down on him when I realized he was sneaking out at night. He was happy, and somehow I knew he wasn't doing anything bad. When you showed up, things got even better. Peter is like he used to be before Ben died, and I can't thank you enough for that."

Tony's mouth opened and closed a few times before he settled for giving me a small smile. "I'm glad I could help, but I'm not sure how I did that."

"You helped just by being there for him," I replied. "You help him, spend time with him, and encourage him. Anything he needs, you're there for him. That's how you've helped."

The billionaire gave a heavy sigh, leaning back into the couch dejectedly. "Like I said, I'm beyond glad that I've been able to and can continue to help Peter, but none of what I do for him seems to work with Harley. It's been almost two months May, and I've done everything I can think of for him. I thought I was getting through to him, but he's just shut down on me. I can't get him to tell me what's bothering him so much. I've learned a little about what happened after his family died, but not a lot. He's trying so hard to pretend that he's fine, but it's obvious he's not. I've brought up seeing a therapist, but he refuses, and I get that, but at least they're trained to deal with traumatized kids. I sure ain't."

My heart went out to him, his distress hitting me hard. How could I help? What could I say to help ease some of his concern? I wracked my mind for ways of helping when a sudden thought hit me. Tony and Harley were very much alike. Their personalities were nearly identical, and I would've sworn they were related. They shared more than personality, though.

"You lost your parents when you were about the same age as Harley, didn't you?" I asked, and Tony's eyes flashed to mine, looking rather taken aback.

"Uh, yeah," he replied after several moments of silence. "I was sixteen." I barely fought back a grimace. That's how old Peter was now.

"It was a car crash, wasn't it?" I questioned, dim memories of old newsreels hitting me. The Starks deaths had been big news when it'd happened, I recalled, and it'd been in the news for days.

A flash of agony passed through Tony's eyes, and I felt guilt at bringing up what was clearly still a very painful memory. Perhaps he hadn't dealt with his parents' deaths, and me bringing it up wasn't going to help. This was for Harley, though.

"It was murder meant to look like a car accident," he stated hollowly, clearing his throat loudly in an attempt to conceal his emotions.

Silence filled the room as I digested what he'd said. Murder?! That was not a known fact because I definitely would've remembered a tidbit like that. No matter, I told myself. This only made his similarities to Harley that much greater.

"When that happened?" I plodded on. "What helped you?"

Tony gave a harsh laugh at that, his face looking anything but amused.

"Booze," he answered bitterly, "and I guarantee you I've removed every last bit of it from the tower so Harley doesn't try the same thing."

"What else?" I pressed, knowing or maybe hoping he'd tried other methods.

"Women," he then answered, avoiding eye contact in an obvious display of shame.

"Who did you live with?" I then asked, frowning unhappily. This conversation wasn't going in the direction I'd hoped.

"When at college I lived with Rhodey, but if you mean who took me in, the answer is nobody. I was emancipated," he informed me. "My godfather felt I was old enough to take care of myself."

Once again, I was struck silent by his answer, and my heart ached even more for him. I imagined the same thing happening to Peter, and I couldn't stomach the thought of him living alone if something happened to me.

"Is that what you wanted?" I continued delicately, suddenly aware that this was still a very sensitive subject for the man.

"I, uh, I don't know," he replied uncertainly, once again avoiding eye contact. "I didn't really think about it."

"I don't believe that," I asserted, having a strong feeling that I'd just been lied to. I once again felt confident that I was going in the right direction to help Harley. "Take a moment and think back. Think hard, Tony and remember. What did you want after your parents died? What did you feel you really needed? Because, it's obvious from the drinking and sleeping around that you weren't receiving it. All you were doing was drowning away your pain."

Tony blew out a breath through his nose, rubbing both hands over his face as he looked anywhere but at me. He opened his mouth to speak, but anticipating a protest, I simply shot him down with a look.

"I realize this is hard, but do it for Harley," I insisted, and his mouth closed. Leaning back on the couch, he closed his eyes, and I remained silent. I watched the minute changes in his expression and had to stop myself from speaking when I saw the grief and pain on his face. After a couple minutes, I noticed his expression turn to both realization and embarrassment. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up, looking down at his hands.

"I wanted," he began to say hoarsely before pausing to clear his throat. This was clearly something hard for him to admit, and I was pretty sure I knew what he was going to say.

"I wanted someone to want me," he admitted, plastering a fake smile on his face as he reluctantly looked at me.

I felt the sudden urge to hug the billionaire but refrained from doing so. Instead, I stayed silent knowing he wasn't done.

"I wanted someone to care, and to-to tell me everything was going to be okay. I wanted someone to care enough to stop me from destroying my life," he continued, his voice quickening in pace as he released old, buried emotions. "I had living godparents, y'know, and neither one took me in," he told me, his tone full of hurt. "Why?" he asked rhetorically. "I mean, my behavior clearly showed I wasn't ready to be on my own, but nobody stepped up because they didn't care."

Tony paused again, his breaths coming out heavy. "Or, maybe," he spoke in a quiet tone, "maybe they did care, but never told me. Maybe they wanted to help, but just didn't know how." His face turned bitter at this point, and he shook his head. "Well, maybe one of them cared."

"I am so sorry for what you went through," I couldn't keep myself from saying, my hand reaching out to grip one of his. I was relieved when he didn't pull away. Instead, he squeezed my hand back, shooting me an appreciative look.

Clearing his throat again, he asked in a stronger tone, "Anyways, how is any of this supposed to help Harls?"

A snort escaped me, and I shook my head in mild amusement. "For a genius, you can be quite dense sometimes."

"You always have such flattering things to say about me, May," he commented in amusement, a small smile adorning his face.

I laughed, somewhat marveling at how quickly he managed to bounce back.

"Don't you see the similarities between yours and Harley's situations?" I probed, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

I could see the wheels turning in his brilliant brain, noting when he finally made the connection.

"He wants the same thing," he stated, and I nodded back, certain we were both right. I had a feeling the teen was desperate for a place to call home. Desperate to be loved.

"I just figured he knew—I mean, I know I'm not the best at expressing myself, but I just thought…I guess I haven't really told him…Do you think he's worried about me kicking him out?" he mused aloud, and I nodded my head.

"I know there's a large age difference, but Peter was the same way after his parents died," I recounted, recalling how petrified he would get any time he got in trouble. "He was afraid that every time he got into trouble we'd send him away."

"Hm. That definitely sounds like Peter," Tony mumbled with a smile. "Harley hasn't stayed out of trouble, but he's definitely gone out of his way to try and seem like he's fine. It could be because he's afraid of the same thing, that I'll grow tired of him or think he's too much trouble. I remember feeling that way with Rhodey."

We both fell silent, each thinking over the revelations.

"Thank you, May," Tony spoke, looking at me with more gratefulness than I felt I deserved. "I think I know what to do now." He stood up, and I followed suit, caught off guard when he uncharacteristically pulled me in for a hug that I was more than happy to return.

I walked him to the door, and before he stepped out, I felt the need to say, "You're a good man, Tony Stark, and Harley is lucky to have you. I know you'll do right by him."

The normally quick-witted man was obviously struck silent by my praise, and I silently applauded myself for managing to leave him speechless. He eventually settled for nodding, giving me a genuine smile.

I deliberated over what I was going to say next, but after this conversation I felt it needed to be said. "I need you to know that I consider you a part of my family, and I'm here for you if you ever"—

I didn't even finish the words before Tony once more pulled me in for a hug. Two in one day. This had to be a miracle.

"Aw, May, quit it before you turn me into a sobbing mess," the engineer complained, his voice sounding watery.

I chuckled lightly, my arms tightening when he whispered a quiet, yet genuine "thank you".

"Okay, I'm leaving before you say anything else sappy," he declared, gracing me with a handsome grin as he left.

Letting out a soft sigh, I couldn't help but shake my head, marveling at what my life had become. Who would've thought even a year ago that Tony Stark and I would have a conversation like this? Ben would be both floored and amused, I thought in nostalgia, wishing he were here.

**Harley's POV:**

I lay on my bed, staring up at my ceiling. I always felt pride when I looked at it. One of the first things I'd done when I moved in was painting my walls, and on the ceiling I'd painted the night sky, exactly how it looked in Tennessee. On the walls I painted the forest by my old house, and it was juxtaposed with a painting of the skyline of New York, my new home…or at least my current home. On another wall, I had painted a life-sized Iron Man, which had absolutely enthralled and thrilled Tony.

There were still blank spots on the walls waiting to be filled, but I hadn't had the energy, desire, or inspiration to add anything else. Besides, with how miserable I'd been lately, anything I painted would no doubt be morose and/or macabre.

Being grounded was awful and boring, but at least I wasn't at school. Tomorrow, unfortunately, I'd be back, and I'd have to suffer through two weeks of detention before once more returning to my room. Drawing and reading could only occupy my mind for so long before my thoughts would turn dark.

I couldn't get the image of Mom and Ana's bloodied corpses out of my head. I saw them every night now, and what used to be wide open, unseeing eyes, now looked at me with resentment and anger. It was like they blamed me for what happened and hated me for the situation I was in. I was afraid every night that they'd start talking.

When I wasn't dreaming about my murdered family, I dreamed of the cruel, uncaring, judgmental faces of the people I'd met in foster care, on the streets, and even Stark Tower when I'd first arrived. All of them said I wasn't good enough. That I didn't deserve to be loved or cared for. That nobody wanted me. That I was a burden and should just leave.

I constantly felt sick to my stomach, and could barely stomach down food, a fact that had garnered concerned looks from Tony and Pepper.

I was absolutely miserable, and I had never felt more alone. I constantly felt like crying, but I stubbornly held the tears at bay, berating myself for being so weak. No wonder Tony didn't want me around. I was a mess, and I had obviously failed spectacularly at hiding it.

I'd heard Tony telling Pepper that child services was going to make a visit soon, and I knew my days were numbered. They were going to take me away. They'd finally grown tired of my bullshit, and I had no one to blame but myself.

The urge to cry hit me strongly, and I couldn't stop a few tears from leaking down my face. I wiped them away furiously, glaring up at the ceiling now as if it were at fault for my emotional state.

I was pathetic. I was a burden. Nobody wanted me, and why should they? I was worthless.

My heart hurt so badly, and I reached a hand, placing it above my heart and pressing it against my chest in a stupid attempt to stem the pain.

It's emotional pain, idiot. Pushing on your chest isn't going to make it go away.

Stupid.

So fucking stupid.

God, I was tired, so freaking tired, but I didn't want to sleep. My eyes felt heavy, though, and maybe tonight I wouldn't have nightmares. Maybe I was so exhausted that I'd have no dreams.

I shut my eyes, tears dripping down onto my pillow. This time I didn't wipe them away. I just lay there and eventually cried myself to sleep.

**Tony's POV:**

After leaving May's, I'd had to rush to a meeting regarding the Accords. It had gone on far longer than anybody had wanted, so I didn't arrive home until around 8PM. Pepper greeted me with a kiss and a concerned look.

"He's getting worse," she spoke, sounding as helpless as I'd felt earlier. "He looks so down, absolutely exhausted, and he's barely eating. These are all signs of depression, Tony, and I'm afraid if something doesn't change soon, that he might hurt himself."

My blood ran cold at that thought, and I rushed to assure her that we would fix this. I filled her in on my conversation with May, and after overcoming her shock, I saw the first signs of hope.

"You think you can do this?" Pep asked softly, her arms wrapped around my neck.

"I'd do anything for him," I answered seriously, and Pepper graced me with a loving look before leaning her forehead against mine. We soaked in comfort from each other, and when we broke apart I promptly asked Friday what Harley was up to. There was no time like the present to talk with him, I thought nervously.

"Mr. Keener is currently sleeping," Friday replied, and Pepper and I shared a look of surprise.

"I'll go check on him," I stated, giving my fiancé a kiss before heading to Harley's room.

I slowly opened the door, not wanting to wake him. The lights were still on, and he was still fully dressed, shoes and all. Shaking my head, I gently removed his shoes before throwing a blanket over him. It was then that I noticed the dried tear tracks on his face.

Oh, kiddo, I thought sadly, my heart aching at the sight. Don't worry, I swear I'll make everything better. I won't let you suffer alone.

Giving my suffering boy one last look, I left the room, more determined than ever to make things right.


	7. Chapter7

**Chapter 7: You will never be alone**

**A/N: Changed Tony's age to 16 for when his parents died rather than in is early 20's. **

**Harley's POV:**

I slowly opened my eyes, surprised to see sunlight streaming into my room.

It was daytime.

I'd slept through the night, an entire night.

No nightmares.

Maybe miracles do happen.

I yawned widely, sitting up and stretching as I blearily looked around my room, freezing when I noticed Tony splayed out on my couch.

"What the hell?" I mumbled, rubbing at my gritty eyes to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

Staring intently, I watched his chest rise and fall slowly, small snores escaping him every once in a while. He looked completely wiped out, and I wondered how long he'd been here. Had he intended to fall asleep?

I noticed my desk chair was set next to my bed as if someone had been sitting there and watching me. What the heck was going on?

"Hey, Fri, how long has he been here?" I whispered with immense curiosity.

"Boss has been here since 9PM," Friday answered, and my eyebrows rose in shock.

"Why?" I asked aloud, and Friday replied that she did not know.

Frowning, I racked my mind for some sort of reason Tony could've spent the night here. My frown deepened when I could come up with nothing.

Huffing, I got out of bed and quickly used the restroom. When I walked out, I walked over to the sleeping mechanic and kneeled in front of him. He looked exhausted. He definitely needed the sleep, but I was too curious to let him continue.

Reaching a hand out, I poked Tony in the chest hard as I said, "Hey, old man, wake up!"

Tony jerked, his eyes snapping open as his hand grabbed onto mine.

"What the fuck," he grumbled as he sat up, and I put on a stern face as I snapped, "Language!"

Tony mumbled something incomprehensible and rolled his eyes before scrubbing at his face. "What time is it?" he asked tiredly.

"Uh…Fri?" I called out.

"It is 9:22 AM," she answered, and my eyes widened.

"What? Fri, why didn't you wake me up earlier? I've got to be back at school today," I exclaimed irritably. It wasn't that I wanted to go, but I knew not going would cause Tony and Pepper more trouble.

"Ms. Potts told me she called in sick for you, so to let you sleep in," the AI informed me, and I gaped up at one of her cameras before turning a curious eye to Tony. He looked unsurprised, so I raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"We've got some things to talk about," he stated before standing up to use the restroom, and I immediately stiffened, heart sinking as I began to prepare myself for the worst. This was it. He was going to tell me I needed to leave. He was kicking me out.

My palms began to sweat, and I stuffed them into my sweat pant pockets to hide how they'd begun to shake.

Keep breathing, I instructed myself. Don't panic. Don't freak out.

"Would you like to eat first?" Tony questioned, seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil. Guess he wants me to leave on a full stomach. Too bad all I feel like doing now is throwing up.

I shook my head negatively, and Tony nodded before patting the couch cushion, signifying that I should sit next to him. Taking in a deep breath, I settled myself down at the opposite end of the couch from Tony.

"What's there to talk about?" I asked, my tone coming out more hostile than I intended.

Tony's exhausted eyes looked at me, and he held up defensive hands. "Bud, please, I'm not looking for a fight. We need—there's stuff I need to say, and I _really_ need you to listen," he outright pleaded, and I couldn't help but simply nod at him, unable to trust my voice.

I wanted to be the one to plead, though. I wanted to plead with him to keep me, to not give up on me, but I couldn't bring myself to. I couldn't manage to unglue my teeth.

Then, there was the guilt. Guilt that I was the reason Tony looked so tired, and that he felt the need to beg _me_ not to fight with him. Had we been fighting? No…Yes. We had been fighting, and it was my fault.

He wanted me to listen, so I would. I'd let him explain, and maybe, just maybe his explanation would help soothe some of the pain I'd feel when he said I had to leave. Maybe there was a good reason. Maybe he was doing it to protect me because he was Iron Man, and people would target me for being close to him. That would be a reasonable explanation, right? That would mean he cared about me, right?

I observed Tony, noting that he looked nervous, but also extremely concerned. This only made me feel more certain about what he wanted to discuss.

"I spoke with May yesterday," Tony began, looking at me apologetically, which made absolute no sense to me, so I raised a confused eyebrow.

"I needed advice," he continued, "on how to…on how to help you."

"What?" I exclaimed outraged confusion, feeling my ever-present anger shoot up. "And what'd she tell you?" I pressed, heart pounding in rising hurt as I figured she must've been the one to suggest Tony get rid of me. With such a perfect nephew, she must've told him I wasn't worth keeping around. She must think I'm a bad influence on her precious Peter. She must want me gone.

"She told me to be honest with you," Tony replied, his tone agitated. "Uh, can you take a breath, Harls, your anxiety is giving me anxiety and I'd prefer to avoid an anxiety attack right now. What exactly are you thinking?"

"If you're asking me to leave, can you just spit it out," I blurted out, voice cracking with poorly restrained emotion, unable to stand the situation anymore. I needed to know. I needed him to say it.

"Ask you to leave? Aww, shit. No, Harley, that's not what's happening at all," Tony immediately assured me, scooting himself closer to me. "That's the farthest thing from my mind right now."

"Then, what the hell is all this, Tones?" I inquired desperately. "I'm 'sposed to be at school right now, but I'm not, and you're telling me we need to talk, or that I need to listen. You talk about going to May for advice, and you're definitely nervous. Just quick jerking me around and say what you need to please cuz I feel like I'm about to"—

"I want to adopt you," Tony blurted out, and my mouth fell open in utter shock as that was the last thing I'd expected to hear.

A heavy silence followed his words, each one of us just staring at the other.

Was he serious? This is what I wanted, right? But, why was he doing this? There hadn't been any mention of adoption until now, so why? Why now?

Fuck, why was I second guessing this? Just say yes, dumbass.

"Man, I suck at this," Tony grumbled, looking upset with himself. "Kinda sprung that on you, didn't I? I'm just—I need you to know that I don't want you gone. I-I care about you, and I want you to live here…as my kid...as my son."

I felt the blood drain from my face, sudden tears spilling down as I comprehended what he'd just said. He wanted to adopt me. He wanted me as a _son_. Holy fucking shit…where had this come from? Was he for real? Could this be true? Was I dreaming? Was this some nightmare where I'd say yes, and then he'd laugh in my face?

"Are you…you want _me_—like to adopt? For reals?" I questioned in disbelief, my voice barely above a whisper. As much as I may have yearned for this moment, I can honestly say I never believed it would happen. This moment felt almost unreal.

"Yes, I want to adopt you," Tony replied seriously, his eyes gentle as he reached out with a finger to wipe at a few of my tears. "Since the second I found out you were orphaned it'd always been my intention to adopt you. I've been dealing with legal issues and goddamn child services, and—whatever, that's not your problem," he asserted, waving a dismissive hand. "Point is, I was waiting for things to calm down, for you to settle in better before bringing this up. Honestly, I never thought you'd think I'd just kick you out or I would've said something sooner."

I couldn't believe it. This was unreal. A dream come true. He wanted to adopt me. He wanted me. He wanted _me_, Harley Keener, the nobody from Rosehill, Tennessee.

"Why?" I had to question, internally smacking myself. Just say yes, stupid! "Why do you want me?" I mean, he had Peter already. Peter, who he could have fun with and then send home. Peter, who didn't cause problems. Peter, who was so damn good and nice. Peter, who was a superhero just like him.

"Because you're a kick ass kid," Tony remarked with a teasing smile that I didn't return. I wanted a serious answer.

"Because I care about you, and the thought of losing you hurts," the genius admitted more seriously. "Watching you try and cope these past two months has been absolute hell, especially since I've had no idea how to help you. Yesterday when I spoke with May, she pointed something out, and you know what it was?"

I shook my head negatively.

Tony scooted closer, so our knees were touching, and he patted my chest once before patting his own. "Me and you, we're the same, bud," he asserted softly, and I frowned in confusion. What did he mean by that?

Tony took in a deep breath, his gentle, brown eyes still trained on me. "You know my parents died when I was sixteen?" he inquired, and I gave a single, slow nod.

"They were murdered," he told me, and my eyes widened in surprise.

"I thought it was a car accident," I stated, completely taken aback. It was common knowledge how Tony's parents had died. Howard Stark wasn't as famous as his son, but he was still covered in both history and science classes, meaning his death was covered.

Shaking his head at me, the mechanic quietly began to recount a video that had been shown to him in Serbia and the subsequent fight that followed.

Holy shit, I couldn't help but think. I wanted to know more, but he continued speaking.

"After they died, I was emancipated, and that might sound cool, but it really wasn't," he admitted, his tone coming off sad. "Being alone sucks. It hurts. Knowing you've got adults in your life who are more than capable of helping, but don't want to—that hurts more than I can describe, and I'm guessing you've felt a little of that, though, huh? You've been thinking I haven't wanted you," he stated more than asked.

My eyes burned as I nodded my head, heart aching at the emotions his words brought up. I had felt what he had. He knew. He understood. A part of me felt relieved, but another part of me felt sorry for him, or at least his younger self.

"I look at you, Harley, and I see so much of myself, and sometimes that fills me with pride, but other times it scares me," he confessed, his voice cracking with emotion. "I remember what I was like after my parents died. I remember the anger and loneliness. I remember all the shit I did to forget, and god, I would _never_ want you to do the same. I want you to be better. I want you to know you're not alone, and that you don't have to deal with all this on your own. I'm here for you now and forever, whether you want me to adopt you or not."

I was overwhelmed. I was in shock. I had the urge to start bawling but managed to restrain myself.

Tony simply stared at me with tender, knowing eyes as if he knew what I was thinking.

"You've known me for several years," Tony continued. "You know I'm not perfect, and I guarantee I'll probably make mistakes, _but_ I can promise you that I'll try my damndest to do right by you. It's not gonna be all kumbaya. I mean, it's me," he joked with a light laugh, eliciting a grin from me. "We're so alike we'll probably get on each other's nerves at times, and you probably won't always agree with my choices, but I promise you that whatever happens in the future, good or bad, I'm there for you. You will _never_ be alone."

The sobs I'd been desperately attempting to keep at bay were finally released, my emotions overcoming me.

"Fuck, Tony," I complained through the tears, futilely attempting to wipe my tears and stem my cries. I failed miserably though and found myself being pulled in for a tight hug, my head buried into Tony's chest.

"Language," the man scolded mildly before assuring me everything would be okay.

I grabbed onto him as if my life depended on it, and he responded by tightening his arms, one of his hands cupping the back of my head.

"Just let it out, buddy," he spoke soothingly. "It's okay to cry. I've got you."

"I-I-I don't know why-why I'm cr-crying!" I sobbed, feeling rather embarrassed.

"That's okay," Tony reassured me kindly. "You don't have to know."

That made no sense to me, but his constant reassurances and soft words kept me from fighting too hard to stop. When the tears finally stopped it was because I felt absolutely spent. Embarrassed and tired as I was, though, I was shocked to find I actually felt better. That didn't stop me from immediately pulling away from Tony, though, and hastily wiping away any signs of my tears.

"You've got nothing to be embarrassed about," Tony informed me knowingly, and I slowly lowered my hands, giving him an unsure look.

"How do you know what I'm feeling?" I asked, and his responding smile was wide as he answered, "Because we're connected."

My heart filled with warmth at those words, not having forgotten how I'd said that to him all those years ago in an attempt to get him to take me with him. It'd sort of become our thing over the years, and we'd thrown the words back and forth at each other in a joking yet affectionate way.

"So, you haven't answered yet," Tony stated a bit hesitantly. "Do you want me to adopt you?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed, finally able to trust that he was being honest. "Of course, I do," I told him with a large grin. "Where else am I going to get access to a state-of-the-art lab?"

The billionaire gave a loud laugh at my words before hooking an arm around my neck to pull me in for a quick hug. I half-heartedly pushed away, swiping at his hand that ruffled my hair. I didn't want him to think I was turning soft and needed to be constantly hugged or coddled like Peter.

"Let's go tell Pep, then," Tony declared as he stood up. "She's been going grey with worry over you—don't tell her I said that, though."

I laughed as I happily trailed behind him.

How different I felt from even an hour ago. It was like the world was different now. It didn't look so dreary and bland anymore. Things seemed more colorful and brighter. I felt lighter and had to resist the childish urge to bounce around in my sudden happiness.

I felt alive.

I felt like I could breathe.

I finally felt like things really would be okay.

Tony wanted to adopt me. He wanted to adopt _me!_ He wanted me as his son.

I felt like yelling with sheer joy but contained myself.

I didn't stop from rushing over and embracing Pepper, though, the second we saw her.

"Tony is adopting me!" I gushed, looking at her with pure excitement. I was smiling widely, and my muscles felt tight, as if unused to being used in this way. Had it really been so long since I'd been happy? These emotions almost felt foreign to me.

Pepper gave a squeal of excitement, hugging me back tightly and placing several kisses to the top of my head.

"Did Tony happen to tell you that I too wanted to adopt you?" she asked once we pulled apart, and once more I found myself struck mute with shock. She wanted to adopt me too?!

"Of course, he didn't," she grumbled, gracing her fiancé with a mild glare. Turning back towards me, her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she began to speak. "Tony and I decided the second we gained temporary guardianship over you that we'd _both_ like to adopt you. I am planning on marrying that bull-headed man, so if you're willing to accept him as your dad, would you be willing to accept me as your mom?"

I didn't even stop to think before I exclaimed, "Yes, yes, yes!" as I wrapped my arms around her again.

"Wow, I feel offended," Tony complained at our display. "I had to convince him to say yes to me, and when he finally agreed, he said it was only because of my lab."

"Pepper is cooler than you," I asserted, sticking my tongue out at the pouting mechanic, which caused him to stick his tongue back out at me.

"Well, I'll certainly be the better influence," Pepper remarked drily, rolling her eyes at our antics. Her arm remained around me, and she absentmindedly smoothed my hair as she held me close.

The adoption process started the next day when child services showed up to check up on me. Lawyers were already present with adoption papers, waiting for child services to give the okay, which they did with no issues. A few signatures and a cheesy picture later, and I was now officially Harley Stark, adopted son of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.

Besides Tony and Pepper, Rhodey, May, and Peter were also present for the adoption. They were all super excited for us, although I did notice that Peter looked a little jealous. I smirked inwardly at that, feeling triumphant. Tony was _my_ dad now while he was simply Peter's mentor. I acknowledged that my feelings were petty, but I hadn't been able to get rid of my jealousy of him, and continued fear that he was going to take Tony from me.

I was reluctant to go back to school, but I'd promised Tony I'd give it a real try. He'd made a deal with me that if after two months I still hated it, then he'd home school me himself. He informed me, though, that I had to put forth a real effort, get good grades, and get into no more trouble, otherwise the deal was off. I was determined to survive these next two measly months, looking forward to being able to have Tony as my full-time teacher.

The only thing I was excited about regarding school was people finding out about my adoption. Since I'd officially taken Tony's last name, I proudly corrected all my teachers when they'd addressed me as Mr. Keener.

"It's Harley _Stark_ now," I informed them, feeling smug satisfaction at the shock, awe, and jealousy of my classmates. Flash's ugly, resentful eyes were the highlight.

A minor downside of being a Stark, though, was the sudden attention from complete strangers. After discussing it with Tony and Pepper, we decided it'd be best to release news of my adoption on our own terms rather than wait for some random news reporter to find out. There was no press conference or anything. We simply had a reporter come to the tower, briefly interview me, and take a family photo. The only information released about me was that Tony had met me years ago, had been mentoring me, and had decided to take me in when I became orphaned. Details regarding how my family died or anything afterwards were kept under wraps.

As a Stark, random strangers were suddenly clamoring to know me, classmates included. Kids who hadn't given me a second look, or who had thumbed their noses at me, now wanted me to be their friends.

Admittedly, while the fame could be annoying, I did enjoy the automatic respect I was given. I was no longer some country bumpkin from Hicksville. Instead, I was the only son of the famous Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, heir to the Stark fortune, and future CEO of Stark Industries…or, at least that's what the media was saying. I didn't really know if I was going to inherit money from Tony or become CEO of Stark Industries, and truthfully, I didn't really care. I was simply happy having Tony and Pepper as adoptive parents. I was happy to not be alone.

As the son of one of if not _the_ most famous and powerful couple in the world I was determined to not be an embarrassment. I made sure to always dress impeccably, meaning no dirty or ripped clothes. I always walked with confidence, making sure to keep my head held high, and I watched my speech when with strangers. I didn't want people thinking I was some sort of idiot when I was well aware of how smart I was.

I even went so far as to ask Pepper for help with etiquette when I found out I'd be joining her and Tony at a charity event. It was to be my official introduction to high society, or something like that.

"No one is going to be judging you, sweetheart," Pepper attempted to reassure me, but I raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"We both know that's a lie, Pep," I refuted with a scoff. "They're going to be watching, and they're going to be judging us all. How I behave is going to be a reflection on you and Tony, and I don't want to embarrass you guys. Besides, I'd feel more comfortable if I knew I wasn't going to make a fool of myself."

Pepper gave in easily. "I understand. I felt the same way when I started working at Stark Industries, especially after I became Tony's secretary."

Both my eyebrows rose suggestively at those words. "Secretary, huh?" I remarked with a wink, quickly avoiding the smack Pepper aimed at my arm.

"Okay, wise-guy, keep that mind of yours out of the gutter," Pepper stated, giving me a fond look of exasperation. "I'll teach you basic etiquette but know that neither Tony nor I care what others think about you."

I smiled at her words, although I really didn't believe them. She was just being nice.

Adoption was the best thing to happen to me. I'd never felt closer to Tony or Pepper, but all this good fortune didn't stop the nightmares. It didn't change the bad memories or the guilt I still felt over my mom and sister's deaths. I didn't feel alone and hopeless anymore, but the memories still hurt. The sadness wasn't gone. It'd pop up at the most random of times, and nearly every night. More often than I'd like to admit, I'd woken up in tears, arguing with Friday to not disturb anyone. So far, Tony had shown up twice, but only because Friday had contacted him before I'd woken up.

I had to admit, that having Tony there when I'd awoken those two times had been comforting. His arms had wrapped around me, and I'd felt safe and cared for. Knowing having him there helped, however, didn't change me from telling Friday to not bother him or Pepper. I was fifteen. I shouldn't need anyone coming to comfort me after a nightmare, so as much as a part of me yearned for that comfort, I settled for taking care of myself like I always had.

My independent nature was put to the test one weekend, however when Tony was gone. He and Natasha were abroad dealing with Accords issues, and I didn't know when he'd be back. He'd been gone nearly a week already, and I hadn't had a full night's sleep since. Things had gotten so bad last night, that I'd actually wished Tony had been here to help me.

The dreams about Mom and Ana had continued to worsen, and as I'd feared, their dream selves had begun to talk to me. They both blamed me for their deaths. They said it was my things that brought the robbers. It was my lab they were after.

In addition to blaming me for their deaths, they also accused me of being happy they were dead.

_"You always wished you could live with Stark," Mom accused with hateful eyes. "We weren't good enough for you, were we?"_

_ "Why didn't you love me, brother?" Ana asked with wide, hurt eyes. "Why did I have to die so you could get what you wanted?"_

It'd go like this nearly every night, and I was at my breaking point. I was exhausted and having trouble keeping my eyes open during the day. I was afraid my grades would start slipping, which would cause Tony to renege on his deal with me. I also worried that I'd make some stupid or careless mistake in the lab, destroying something or even injuring myself, which would end with Tony banning me.

I _needed_ sleep. I craved it, but I loathed the nightmares.

I couldn't take it. I couldn't stand the guilt, sorrow, and confusion. Would Mom and Ana really have thought I'd let them die just so I could live with Tony? Did they really blame me? Did they really hate me?

I hadn't exactly pushed the authorities to find their murderers. The thirst for revenge just didn't hit me. I'd been too wrapped up in my own misery, and I hadn't wanted to be involved in any police investigation. I didn't want to remember that my family was dead. I didn't want to remember their cold, dead bodies, so I'd said nothing when the cops had attempted to discuss the investigation with me.

Did they resent me for this? Did this make me a bad son/brother?

I sat in my bed with knees pulled up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. My face was wet with sweat and tears, and I was trembling.

I wanted Tony. I wanted him to tell me my thoughts were ridiculous and that my mom and sister would never blame me or hate me. I even wanted to be hugged and comforted, a thought that normally made me flush red with embarrassment. Right now, though, I didn't care.

I felt so alone sitting in my large, dark room. I didn't want to be alone, but nobody would be up at this hour.

Pepper had to be…Pepper! Pepper was home, I thought in rising hope. She sometimes stayed up late with work. I could check her room and see, and if she was…well, if she was I could…

I shook my head, honestly having no idea what I could do or say. I just knew I didn't want to be alone.

Pepper was always so kind, and I knew she'd be understanding, not teasing me for my sudden weakness. She was also easier to talk to than Tony, and maybe I could tell her about my nightmares. Maybe she'd sit with me until I fell asleep.

I shoved away the shame I felt at that childish thought, my emotional needs overcoming my teenage insecurities.

Getting out of my bed I felt chills run up my spine as my bare feet touched the cold, hardwood floors. I quietly made my way out of my room and to the door of Tony and Pepper's room. I felt my heart sink at seeing no light filtering from under the doorway. She wasn't awake, I thought in crushing disappointment, feeling sudden tears prickling at the corner of my eyes.

Well, she could be awake, I attempted to reassure myself. She could be using a bedside lamp instead of having the whole room lit up. I could open the door a crack and check.

Rubbing my hands over my goose-bump covered arms, I slowly turned the doorknob and pushed it open enough to stick my head in. No lights were on, and I could barely make out the sleeping form of Pepper on the massive bed.

Indecision hit me, the teenager in me telling me to leave while the child told me to go inside. The decision was made for me when the lump on the bed stirred, a hand reaching out to turn on a lamp.

"Harley?" Pepper called out in sleepy concern, sitting up to get a better look at me. "Is everything okay?"

I found myself unable to admit why I was here, so I ended up just stuttering, "I-I-I, uh, well, I was just awake, and um…" My words trailed off as I gave an awkward shove. Brilliant explanation, genius, I scolded myself.

Pepper got herself out of the bed and walked towards me, eyes full of worry. "Come on inside," she coaxed, placing a soft hand on my shoulder. I slowly stepped inside, awkwardly looking around. Pepper led me to her bed and sat me down on her side of the bed before sitting herself next to me.

"Nightmares," she stated rather than asked, and I gave a dismal nod.

"Do you want to talk about them?" she inquired, and I shook my head even as I felt tears well up in my eyes again. I did and didn't want to talk. There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn't bring myself to do so, so I settled for a helpless look.

Pepper's eyes were so soft and loving as she gently ran a hand through my hair.

"How about we get some sleep, and then tomorrow we can talk," she suggested, and my heart sank at the thought of being sent back to my room. The thought of being alone scared me so much that I couldn't keep from blurting out, "I don't want to be alone."

"Well, that's a relief," Pepper replied with a beautiful smile, "because I don't want to be alone either. It's always harder for me to sleep when Tony is gone. How about you spend the night here?"

Relief flooded through me, and I eagerly nodded my head, a lump in my throat keeping me from expressing my thanks.

Pepper patted the spot next to her as she pulled back the covers, and I quickly got into Tony's spot, happily burying my face into his pillow. Feeling the covers being pulled over me and tucked in snugly, I turned my face to see my adoptive mother looking at me with fondness.

"I love you," I found myself saying, and her eyes turned bright with emotion as she replied, "I love you too."

Closing my eyes, I felt both content and safe. That coupled with a hand rubbing circles on my back caused me to fall asleep in minutes.

Hours passed before I awoke to the low murmuring of voices. I couldn't make out what was being said, but I recognized Tony's voice. Opening sleep lidded eyes, I saw Pepper already dressed for the day talking with a tired Tony, who was unbuttoning his dress shirt. I closed my eyes for what I thought was a second, but turned out to be a few minutes, because Pepper was gone and Tony was settling himself into her spot.

"T'ny?" I murmured sleepily, causing his eyes snap towards mine.

"Hey, bud, go back to sleep. It's too early to get up," he whispered.

"Wan' me t'go t'my bed?" I then pressed, and he rolled his eyes before reaching out to gently ruffle my hair

"Close your eyes, Gizmo," he replied nicely, and I promptly did as told, once more finding it easy to fall asleep. With Dad here, everything would be okay.


	8. Chapter8

**Chapter 8: You're jealous**

**Harley's POV:**

"You ready to go, bud?" Tony asked, brushing some imaginary lint off my suit.

I fidgeted with the cuffs of my jacket in an attempt to keep my hands from trembling with nerves.

"Totally ready," I answered, my voice cracking, and Tony simply responded with a pointed look that had me grimacing.

What little bravado I'd felt seemed to drain out of me, and I let out a shaky breath as I walked a few paces away from the door leading to the extravagant party. Tony followed, eyes sympathetic as I began to take in a few calming breaths, and he placed his hands on my shoulders.

"You don't have to be here," he repeated for the fourth time that evening. "Pep and I won't be disappointed or upset at all if you just head back upstairs."

"No," I insisted with a stubborn shake of my head, "I want to do this, I just, uh, I just need to catch my breath here. I'm nervous," I admitted, giving a humorless laugh.

"That's okay, being nervous is totally expected. To be honest, I still get nervous at times during these events," Tony confessed, his eyes open and honest. I couldn't help but look at him in disbelief.

"It's true," he insisted, his hands dropping to his side as he looked towards the dreaded door. He stepped closer to me, his voice dropping to a whisper as he told me, "Don't tell anybody this, but I don't actually always know what I'm talking about. I'm just really good at faking it."  
His words elicited a grin and a snort from me, and I elbowed him in the side, certain he was just messing with me.

"God honest truth," he declared, holding a hand up as if he were in court. "Also, sometimes I worry I'll say something stupid that'll piss off Pepper, and we both know that ending up on her shit list is something to be avoided at all costs."

My grin widened at that, and I nodded my head in agreement. Pepper was scary when angry. I'd yet to see her ire directed at me, but the fact that she could cause the great Iron Man to go pale with only a look was enough to tell me that I needed to stay on her good side.

"Harley, look," Tony continued more seriously, "whatever happens in there, don't sweat it. Go in and be yourself."

"I can't do that," I argued, giving him a beseeching look. "I'm _your_ kid now, and I've got to live up to that."

"What? No, you don't have to live up to anything," Tony refuted, looking visibly upset. "I don't give a damn what those people think about you or"—

"But I care," I interrupted, needing him to understand. "I care what they think, and I don't want anybody looking down on you or Pepper because of me. I don't want you guys to be hassled because I come off like some uncultured, idiot kid."

Tony looked at me with concerned eyes, a heavy sigh escaping through his nose as he looked away for a moment. When he looked back at me there was an unreadable emotion in his eyes for mere moments before it turned into understanding.

"Nothing I say is going to change how you feel about this, is it?" he asked softly, and I shook my head negatively.

Nodding more towards himself than me, Tony pulled out a pair of sunglasses from an inside pocket of his jacket and handed them to me. I took them and gave the older man a curious look.

"I was telling you the truth when I said I still get nervous," he spoke, "so I make sure to always have a pair of sunglasses on me. It's it bit childish, but I feel that covering my eyes somehow protects me, or at the very least hides my emotions from the public. Not to mention I've managed to connect them to Friday, meaning I have constant internet access," he added with a wink.

I grinned before remarking, "So, they're like a mask," and he gave a single nod before continuing to speak.

"Being a Stark is hard, believe me, buddy, I understand that," Tony told me empathetically. "People are gonna judge you before they even know you, and I get that you don't want to make a fool of yourself. I need you to know, though, that no matter what happens tonight or any time in the future, neither Pepper nor I will ever think you're not worthy or good enough to be our son."

I felt a lump in my throat at his admission, my mouth becoming slick with saliva as a sudden urge to cry hit me. Sniffing noisily, I immediately placed the sunglasses on, not wanting him to know how emotional his words had made me. It was a fruitless gesture, though, because he always seemed to know what I was thinking or feeling lately.

"When we go in there just be your regular charming self," he instructed. "Hold your head up high and be proud not just because you're a Stark, but because you're Harley, a brilliant, smart-mouthed, witty kid. Ready?"

I felt my heart lift at his words, and I flashed him a large grin as I responded that I was ready. Giving my shoulder one last squeeze, Tony squared his shoulders, plastering an easy grin on his face before he led me into the loud, brightly lit, already crowded room.

All eyes seemed to be drawn to us as we walked in, several people beginning to make their way over. It was like Tony was a magnet, or maybe more like a star, as people seemed to gravitate not just towards him but around him as well. Not to mention, the room somehow seemed brighter in his presence.

I didn't know how he did it, but Tony managed to work his way from person to person, shaking hands and trading a few words easily. He introduced me to a multitude of people, and I swallowed my anxiety, grinning brightly as I shook hands.

At some point, Tony and I parted ways and I was grateful for the sunglasses, as they managed to hide my fluctuating anxiety when I realized this. As people began to talk to me, I copied Tony's smile, holding nothing back as I showed off my charm and knowledge. I could tell it was working by the impressed looks on people's faces and the comments they made.

"I can see why Stark adopted you," a grey-haired man commented.

"Tell me, Harley, is Mr. Stark your biological father? You certainly remind me of him," an elderly woman spoke, her face aglow with curiosity. "Go on, dear, you can be truthful with us," she goaded, eager for some sort of gossip.

I barely resisted rolling my eyes. Instead, I gave a short laugh as I replied cockily, "Sorry to disappoint you madame, but my charm and genius are all mine. Tony just wishes he were my biological dad."

Laughter greeted my words, a woman even having the audacity to pinch my cheek. It was a struggle not to flinch or childishly snap at her. Instead, I excused myself, using my teenage stomach as an excuse.

Grabbing some food, I let out a slow breath, noticing Peter for the first time. He was standing around awkwardly, taking small bites from some crackers as his eyes skirted from side to side. He was dressed in a fancy suit, no doubt a gift from Tony, and he looked decidedly uncomfortable in it, constantly pulling at his collar with the hand not holding the crackers.

"What brings you to this fancy shindig, Parker?" I asked conversationally, surprised when he jumped at my voice.

"Oh, hey," he greeted, taking a step closer, "uh, Mr. Stark invited me. Said he wanted to show off his prized intern." The words should've been filled with pride, but they came out of Peter's mouth dully, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Then, why are you hiding out over here?" I pressed curiously. "You should be out there meeting people. If you plan on working for Tony in the future, you've gotta learn how to schmooze," I advised, giving some passing girls a charming grin and a wink that had them blushing before scurrying off. Inwardly, I marveled at that, but I didn't let Peter see any of my uncertainty.

"I'm not good at this," the hero admitted, pinks reddening as he watched the girls hurry away from us.

"Well, you better get used to it, spider _boy_," I whispered unkindly. "What kind of hero can't talk to people?" I gave a snicker at his red face and strutted off, easily integrating into the crowd once more.

I felt more at ease now, comfortable enough to take off the sunglasses and tuck them into my suit jacket. My confidence grew as the night moved on, and I gave a cheeky grin to Tony and Pepper when they locked eyes with me from afar to see how I was. This was easy, far easier than I thought it'd be. These people were so easy to please, their conversations all surface level mumbo jumbo. They didn't care about my past. They just wanted to know about my present and future, most especially my future.

"Do you feel up to taking on the mantle of CEO of Stark Industries," someone asked, and while internally that caused a flutter of nerves to flood my stomach, outwardly I gave an easy grin and a nod.

Someone else gave me a slap on the back, laughing heartily as they proclaimed that I seemed like a perfect successor for the Stark legacy.

"Yes, he seems perfect, but what happens if Mr. Stark has a biological heir?" a pudgy bureaucrat questioned as if I weren't even present.

"Who's to say this boy isn't biologically his?" another man joked, and I graced everyone with an innocent smile as I shrugged my shoulders. If they wanted to think I was Tony's real kid, I honestly didn't mind. I would much rather be related to him than my real asshole father.

I moved on to a different group, finding myself tiring from the constant smiling and people pleasing. I had to temper my smart mouth a multitude of times as people said thoughtless or idiotic things. I honestly couldn't understand how Tony and Pepper managed to get through these so often, especially Tony. That man had less of a filter than I did.

"Do you think you'll also take up the Iron Man mantle once your dad retires?" a young man queried excitedly, and my eyebrows rose in surprise as I honestly had never considered that. Now that he'd put the idea in my head, though, I knew at once that I wanted to answer with a jubilant yes. Tony, unfortunately, chose that moment to enter the conversation, pulling me in for a side hug as he answered, "Super heroing is not in this kid's future. He doesn't need to wear an iron suit to change the world."

Disappointment hit me hard at those words, and I wanted to argue that I wanted nothing more than to become the next iron man. I could be both a businessman and a hero, just like him!

Conversation continued, all attention now on the billionaire, which allowed me to easily slip away. Suddenly irritated, I found myself walking back towards the buffet table wondering if I could grab an alcoholic drink without anyone noticing. Before I reached my destination, though I noticed Peter agilely making his way through the crowds and towards an exit. I was about to ignore his exit when I caught a look of his expression. It was panic, an expression I'd seen only on one person before: Tony.

I felt only the barest flicker of indecision before quickly going after the other teen. I could be an asshole, but I wasn't heartless. Making my way out of the same exit Peter took, I walked down the hallway, stopping outside a closed door when I heard heavy breathing. I knocked, letting Peter know it was me before entering and closing the door behind me.

"Fri, dim lights please," I requested, eyes locking on Peter's panicked ones. His face was bone white, a few tears trailing down his face as his breaths came out in gasps. Concern hit me hard, and I quickly made my way over, crouching down a short distance from him.

"Peter, hey, everything's fine, you're okay," I spoke softly, reaching out a hesitant hand to place on his shoulder. He flinched before giving a wet, humorless laugh, and I frowned as I sat myself down.

"You know, Tony gets attacks like these sometimes, or he used to at least," I began speaking, deciding that distraction would be best with helping him relax. "I actually don't know if he still gets them. I guess I'll ask him later. Anyways, I think it was kind of my fault the first two times I saw him have an anxiety attack. It was the attack on New York that triggered them," I informed Peter, "specifically the wormhole he went through."

I noticed Peter's eyes look at me in utter surprise, which caused me to roll my eyes internally. He really did put Tony on a pedestal. I dimly hoped Tony wouldn't mind me telling Peter this.

"When I first met Tony, he'd broken into my barn and was removing shrapnel from his arm," I recounted, a fond smile on my face. "I threatened him with a potato gun before I realized who he was, and then he asked for my help. He was in rough shape, falling apart at the mere mention of New York. This was all during the Mandarin thing, do you remember?" I asked curiously, and through his slowing breaths Peter nodded his head at me.

"He had this prototype suit that wasn't all that great, and as he left to go track down the Mandarin, he left me to charge it up for him. When he found out it wasn't charging, though, he started panicking again, and it wasn't until I reminded him that he was a mechanic and that he fixed things that he managed to calm down," I informed him. "See, Tony forgot that he was a hero with or without the suit. I helped him figure that out," I declared with no small amount of arrogance.

A snort greeted my words, and I was relieved to see that Peter seemed to have calmed down. He still looked pale, but there was color returning to his cheeks, and he was no longer gasping for air. His hands still seemed to tremble, and stray tears fell down his face that he repeatedly tried to wipe away. His face was quickly gaining more color now, from embarrassment, no doubt.

"You cool now?" I asked in concern, and he gave a jerky nod as he stood to his feet.

"Thanks," Peter mumbled, looking rather uncomfortable.

"So, what was that?" I felt the need to press. "What set it off?"

"Why do you suddenly care?" the teen bit out, and I raised an eye at the sudden hostility in his face. Peter had never been anything but polite with me, to the point where I'd wondered if he even realized I wasn't his biggest fan. Maybe he wasn't so oblivious.

"I don't," I lied, giving a careless shrug. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't embarrass Tony. You gotta remember, Petey pie, that you are his one and only intern, and your behavior is a reflection of him, just like mine. _So_, quit being such a pansy and get your shit together."

I regretted the callous words immediately, especially at seeing the hurt expression on Peter's face. Why was I so horrible? Why couldn't I have just admitted that I'd been worried about him?

"What the _hell_ is your problem with me?!" Peter burst out, his red face from anger now rather than embarrassment. "You've been a jerk to me from the moment we met, and you don't even know me! I've tried to be nice and understanding, but…" he trailed off, looking absolutely frustrated.

He was glaring at me right now, so I glared back as my mind raced for something to say. I really had no idea how to respond as my reason for being such a dick was simply jealousy. No way was I going to admit that. Instead, I settled with sneering and rolling my eyes.

"Wow, you're so damn dramatic, Parker," I snarked. "Why don't you go on home, so you don't embarrass yourself any more than you already have. Honestly, I have no idea how you call yourself a hero when you freak out so easily."

Peter's eyes narrowed before widening as if he'd come to some realization. "You're jealous," he stated, and I raised both my eyebrows, forcing out a laugh.

"Jealous? Of what?" I scoffed.

"You're jealous of me," Peter remarked with more certainty. "You're jealous because I'm a superhero and you're not."

I was the one to turn red now, both in embarrassment and anger. "You don't know a damn thing," I ground out through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, I do," Peter refuted as he took a step closer to me. "You've been jealous of me from the moment I got here. It all makes sense now. You're jealous of my relationship with Mr. Stark!" he accused.

"What the hell do I have to be jealous of?" I exclaimed, getting right back in his face. "Tony is _my_ dad while he's just _Mr. Stark_ to you! I work on projects with him while you just sit and tinker with your webs! You're _nothing_ to him! He just keeps you around so he can use you!"

With those words, I walked out of the room and headed back to the party, feeling more upset than satisfied with that exchange. It wasn't like I really hated the guy, but I wasn't going to back down when confronted. I wasn't going to let him think he was better than me. I was Tony's _son_. He wasn't.

"Hey, you alright?" Tony inquired the second I walked back in, and I quickly nodded my head, smoothing my expression out to hide my anger.

"Just needed a breather," I responded with a reassuring grin.

He seemed to believe me because he relaxed, gracing me with a smile as he squeezed one of my shoulders. He was opening his mouth to say something when his eyes zeroed in on something behind me. I knew immediately that it was Peter when Tony's eyes widened with concern and he rushed away from me.

Goddamn Parker, I thought angrily as I turned to see Tony wrapping an arm around Peter and leading him out. I felt a burning in my eyes, hurt by how easily Tony walked away from me. Peter was always in the way.

Pepper approached me, and he looked worried as she placed a gentle hand on my cheek.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" she asked, and I buried my emotions as I gave her a smile.

"Nothing, just tired," I replied, and she nodded in understanding, recommending I head up to bed.

"You've done so wonderfully today and I'm so proud of you," she told me, and I felt my heart lift. My smile was more genuine this time, although I couldn't help but wish those words were coming from Tony rather than her. I took what I could get, though, and gave her a quick hug before deciding to just head up home. I'd had enough of this show.

As I entered my floor, I asked Friday to let me know when Tony arrived, wanting to spend some time with him. I'd just finished showering when Friday alerted me to Tony's return. I smiled and made my way towards the living room only to freeze when I saw Tony _carrying Peter in his arms_. I quickly schooled my expression as he came nearer, giving him a raised eyebrow when he asked me to open Peter's door. I watched him lay the teen on the bed, removing his shoes before pulling covers over him and gently tucking him in. He then ran a hand through Peter's hair leaning over and whispering something to him before standing up and walking out. He quietly closed the door before leading me to my room.

"What's wrong with"—I had begun to ask, only to falter when I saw Tony with his arms crossed giving me a disappointed expression.

"What?" I asked instead, heart beginning to pound as I wondered what Parker had said to him.

"What did you say to Peter tonight?" he asked calmly, although I could hear an undercurrent of anger.

"I don't know what he told you, because all I did was help calm him down when he had an anxiety attack," I asserted, letting my own anger show.

"Yeah, he told me that, and I'd like to be appreciative if it wasn't for what you said to him afterwards," Tony responded with a frown. "Did you really tell him you only helped so he wouldn't embarrass me before saying he should quit being a pansy and man up? Did you really tell him that I was using him and that he meant _nothing _to him?" he asked incredulously.

I didn't respond, wondering how to defend myself. It wasn't as if Parker had said anything insulting to me.

"He also told me how you've been nothing but mean to him, making him feel worthless and like he's not good enough to be a hero or my intern," Tony continued, and my heart sunk. "Tell me that's not true, Harls," he almost begged. "Tell me you're not that kind of kid."

Again, I remained silent, my stomach churning in guilt at his tone. He wasn't angry with me. He was incredulous and disappointed. If I wasn't mistaken, I think I also heard some hurt in his voice, which caused a lump to form in my throat.

Realization crossed my guardian's face, and he shook his head in disbelief. "I don't even know what to say," he expressed softly, his arms dropping to his side. "Disappointment doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling, bud. I honestly thought you were better than this. You know what it's like to be bullied, so to think you'd do the same to Peter, whose never been anything but kind and welcoming to you disgusts me."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I struggled with what I could say to defend myself. "I-I-I…," my voice fell silent as I had no idea what to say. How could I explain my actions? "I'm sorry," I finally managed to say, looking down at my feet as I was unable to withstand Tony's disappointed gaze any longer.

Silence was all I received in response to my pathetic apology, and it reined for so long that I thought Tony had probably left me, which caused my tears to finally fall. My shoulders shook, and I bit down hard on my bottom lip to keep sobs from escaping. I was turning to throw myself on my bed when I heard footsteps.

With startled eyes I looked up, shocked to see Tony hadn't left me. I wondered what he was still doing here since he was clearly disgusted, so when he quickly closed the distance between us and reached a hand out towards me, I couldn't keep from flinching back.

**Tony's POV:**

I honestly never anticipated a situation like this arising. In my mind, Harley and Peter should've been friends if not best buds with how much they had in common. That's why I was completely taken aback when Peter informed me earlier tonight of what had been going on. I'd been so caught off guard that I'd had Friday pull up footage of Peter and Harley's interactions from earlier today. What I'd seen had horrified me.

I couldn't fathom why Harley would treat Peter so poorly, so I'd confronted the kid the second I had him alone. When he had no valid excuse or even an attempt at an explanation, I'd felt my disappointment and anger build. Maybe I'd let too much anger out, though, because when I reached out to comfort the sobbing teen, he'd horribly flinched away from me.

Wide eyed, I stared at the trembling kid, whose shoulders were hunched while his arms were raised protectively over him. He looked…he looked like he was waiting for me to _hit _him!

_What the fuck_.

He was in this position for mere seconds, but it seemed more like hours by the time he opened his eyes, lowering his arms as he looked at me warily.

That wariness tore through me, and I felt sick that he for even a second thought I would hurt him. For him to think that, I must've screwed up horribly. I thought I'd done well at keeping control of my temper, but I must've slipped. Maybe he'd seen something on my face, or maybe it'd been my posture.

Green eyes watched me as I took a couple steps back and slowly raised my hands up in the well-known gesture of, 'I mean no harm'.

Harley straightened up immediately, looking stunned before immediately going red, his face a mask of embarrassment.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," he proclaimed tearfully, "I know you would never hurt me. I didn't mean to—I don't know what I was thinking. I-I, uh, I was just"—

"No, I'm sorry, bud," I interjected, wanting to rush forward to comfort him, but remaining firmly planted in place. "I didn't mean to scare you. Yes, I'm upset about what happened, but that doesn't mean"—

"I know that!" Harley interrupted coming up to me and throwing his arms around me. I quickly reciprocated the hug, relieved yet still worried. Relieved that he wasn't afraid of me, but worried about what could've led to him having such a reaction. Someone had hurt him. Someone had hurt my _son_. I wanted to question him immediately and demand he tell me who had hurt him, but I knew now wasn't the time. I knew he'd only shut down.

Harley pulled away after less than a minute, his hands swiping away at the tear tracks on his face. His face was still beet red, and his eyes were full of apology and worry. I fervently hoped he wasn't worried about me hurting him.

"Let's take a seat," I suggested, gesturing to his bed. He sank down into it, his hands gripping his suit pants tightly as I dragged over a chair.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" I inquired, giving him a look of concern.

"You're mad about how I treated Peter," he whispered dejectedly, only briefly making eye contact before looking down at his knees.

"I was," I admitted quietly, "but right now, I'm more confused than anything. Why have you been so mean to him? Has Peter been acting the same way towards you? Has he said something? I saw footage of your interaction earlier tonight, and you were definitely the antagonizer, but what about other instances?" I pressed, curious to know if this bullying was going both ways. My heart told me it wasn't, but I had to ask.

"Peter hasn't said or done anything to me," the boy in front of me admitted, eyes looking anywhere but at me. "I've just been…I know I haven't been nice to him, but I…," he trailed off again with a shrug, and I frowned as my disappointment began to mount once more. Still, though, I didn't understand why.

"_Why_, Harley?" I pleaded, desperately wanting to comprehend why this normally kind-hearted boy could treat Peter, who was equally kind-hearted, so poorly.

Harley shrugged once more, so I reached out a hand slowly to gently grasp hold of his chin. I counted it as a win when he didn't flinch, and I lifted his head so that he would be forced to look at me.

"I'm not buying it," I spoke bluntly. "You're not a bully, and you're not cruel. You wouldn't be so mean to Peter if there wasn't a reason. _Why_?" I repeated more insistently.

A groan escaped the teen, and I released my hold of his chin when I noticed him blushing. I waited a few moments for him to gather his courage to speak.

"I'm jealous," Harley confessed with a grimace.

"Why are you jealous of Peter?" I questioned calmly.

Harley looked at me in disbelief, like he couldn't understand why I'd ask such a question, which only further served to confuse me.

"What's _not_ to be jealous of?" he then asked rhetorically. "He's like the perfect kid. He's super smart, a freaking super-hero, too nice to be real, and you love him like he's your own son," Harley expressed in increasing distress. "You're perfect with him. It's like you know everything he needs, and you guys hang out all the time. I don't know if he's realized it himself, but Peter looks at you like a dad, even if he insists on calling you Mr. Stark. You're perfect for each other, and I-I-I…I'm not."

My mind was racing as I digested his words, nothing having prepared me for his response. I felt completely out of my depth, but I knew I couldn't just put this conversation off for another day. This needed to be addressed right now.

With forced calm, I asked, "You're not what?"

Harley's face was full of bitterness, stray tears trailing down his face as he fidgeted restlessly on the bed.

"You're not _what_, Harley?" I pressed, garnering his attention when I placed a steadying hand on his bouncing knee.

"I'm not…I'm no good for you," I barely heard him whisper morosely, and I swear those words broke my heart. His pained eyes focused squarely on mine as he continued speaking.

"I know I'm not an easy kid, and I've only gotten worse since my mom and Anna were killed. You might try and hide it, but I can tell you and Pepper are constantly worried about me. I stress you guys out, and I'm not easy to get along with. I know I've been unfair with you, and I've done nothing to make your life easier. I showed up out of the blue, expecting you to fix my problems when you've never had an obligation to do so. I know your life was easier without me. I'm just-I'm just useless," he stated, as if admitting some sort of horrible secret to me.

"Peter just seems like the perfect son, and if you had to choose between us, I know you'd choose him," he then remarked, and his utter certainty in those words tore through my already broken heart, shattering it into pieces.

How long had he been thinking like this? How had I not seen this? Had I given him this impression?

My mind continued to race, this time with how I could fix this. I had to choose my words carefully. I had to convince Harley that he mattered to me just as much as Peter, and there was no comparison between the two because there was nothing to compare. They were each their own person, and I would never choose one over the other.

"Harley Stark," I addressed firmly, and the boy's dull green eyes snapped back to mine. "Listen closely and listen well," I ordered, pausing momentarily before saying, "I love you."

Clearly, that hadn't been what the kid had been expecting, because his mouth opened, eyes widening as tears once again began to spill down his face.

"I understand why you've been jealous, and I'm deeply sorry if I've ever done something to make you think I cared more about Peter than you," I continued, getting up and sitting myself down next to my distraught boy. "You are not nor will you ever be a bother or a burden to me. Yes, you've got issues, but who doesn't? Hell, how many of my anxiety attacks have you witnessed?" I asked rhetorically, wrapping an arm around Harley to pull him close.

"You are my son, bud, and I've never regretted adopting you," I informed him seriously. "I've never regretted meeting you," I added, using my thumb to wipe away some of his tears. "You are an amazing young man who I'm grateful to have in my life. Life is different with you here, and maybe a little harder, but I wouldn't change anything if given the choice. I love having you here. I love having you as my son. Things haven't been perfect, and we've definitely clashed, but isn't that how any father/son relationship works? Admittedly, I'm no expert, and I guess you aren't either, so I suppose we're both figuring this out as we go along," I mused aloud.

Harley sniffed loudly, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his jacket, and I rubbed a hand up and down his arm comfortingly. His tears seemed to have stopped, but I wasn't done speaking.

"You and Peter are two different boys. I don't compare you to him or him to you. There is no comparison," I asserted firmly. "You're each your own person, and I care about both of you equally. I don't care more for him because he hasn't gotten into as much trouble or because he's a superhero," I remarked. "You think I'm perfect with him, but I can promise you that I'm not. Pete and I have spent a lot of time together recently, and I've definitely learned how to deal with him, but our relationship is far from perfect. Peter is far from perfect," I had to add. "I never discuss it with you, but Peter gets himself into just as much mischief and gives me as bad a headache as you," I joked mildly.

Harley snorted at this, his head coming to lean down against my chest. I allowed my hand to massage his scalp, and he let out a noise of content, reminding me very much of a cat. He was still hiccoughing and taking shaky breaths, but he was calming down.

"He's not taking me away from you," I declared, having a strong feeling that this was the crux of the matter. "No one will take me away from you. I've told you before, and I'll tell you as many times as needed, but I'm here for you, Gizmo. I will _always_ be here for you. I won't leave you alone."

Harleys face burrowed into my chest, his hands wrapping tightly around me as his shoulders began to shake. I could feel his tears soaking through my dress shirt, so I knew he was crying again.

"Please don't feel jealous of Peter," I now begged. "He, like you, will always be a part of my life. I haven't adopted him, but you were right when you said I look at him like a son. You're both my kids, and I want nothing more than for you two to get along. You two have a lot in common, and I'm sure you'd be great friends if you'd give him a chance," I suggested.

There were several moments of silence before Harley shakily muttered, "He probably hates me."

I chuckled before saying, "He doesn't. Believe it or not, he's concerned about you, which is why he talked to me tonight. He wasn't looking to get you in trouble."

Disbelieving eyes met mine, and I quirked my lips into a smile. "It's true," I confirmed, which caused the disbelief to turn to guilt. He once again went back to hiding his face against my chest.

"I think you owe him an apology, bud," I suggested lightly, smiling when I hard a quiet, "I will."

I placed a kiss to the top of my son's head, relishing in being able to hold him in my arms.

"Can you look at me bud?" I requested, and two eyes reluctantly turned towards me.

"You've got a big heart, and I'd hate to see you poison it with hate and jealousy. You're not a bully, and I won't stand by and allow you to become one. We clear?" I inquired sternly, ignoring the wince the teen gave at my tone.

"Very clear," he quickly replied, giving me an earnest look, and I softened my expression, pulling him tight against me.

God, I really loved this kid. If I'd known how much joy a kid would bring me, I would've had one ages ago, I thought idly. I didn't care about the stress, tears, or sleepless nights. I didn't care about the disobedience, anger, or disrespect. All that heartache and headache was worth it, because the positives far outweighed those negatives.

The unconditional love alone was enough to overcome the negatives. Then, there was their laughter, smiles, and hugs. Pride in their achievements. Joy in spending time with them. Warmth in their kind words and actions. Contentment when they were near. Simply looking at Harley and Peter brought me happiness.

I stayed with Harley until he fell asleep, and when I walked out of his room, I checked in on Peter, pleased to see he was sleeping well. Smiling to myself, I went to sleep myself, feeling that in this moment all was right in the world.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: We need to get along**

**Harley's POV:**

Peter and I sat next to each other, both feeling absolutely awkward and mortified as we attempted to look anywhere but at each other or our torturer, Tony. After we'd woken and had breakfast, Tony had sat both Peter and I down in the living room (making sure we were next to each other) and had us hash things out. He forced me to admit my jealousy before having me profusely apologize for my behavior. Peter graciously accepted, which I was grateful for.

Afterwards, Tony forced Peter to confess that he was jealous of me, which only somewhat surprised me. I had gone out of my way to make it seem as if Tony liked me more than him.

Once our embarrassing confessions were over, Tony got all touchy feely telling us how much we both meant to him and that neither one of us was replacing the other. It was stuff he'd told me last night, and while last night I'd gotten emotional at hearing it, today I just felt embarrassed that he was telling me this in front of Peter.

The dreaded conversation took far too long to end, and when it did Tony suggested (ordered) that Peter and I talk things out some more.

"Get to know each other," he said. "You never know, you might find that you have some things in common."

With those lovely words, the old man had walked away. I was no fool, though. I knew the genius had Friday watching, and she would inform her creator if we did as we were told.

Sighing heavily, I got up and just lay myself down on the floor.

"This sucks," I grumbled, and Peter gave a snort of amusement. Looking over at the teen, I had to admit to being extremely grateful for how forgiving and kind-hearted he was. He could totally have been holding my attitude against me or blaming me for our situation, but he didn't. In fact, he seemed almost eager to talk. Ugh.

I sat myself up, pulling a knee up to my chest and wrapping an arm around it. Might as well take this seriously. Peter was a part of Tony's life, which made him a part of my life. The least I could do was be friendly with him.

"You were really jealous of _me_?" Peter asked abruptly, looking disbelieving.

I grimaced while giving a nod. Peter continued to look confused, so I rolled my eyes as I remarked, "You're pretty blind for someone with enhanced eyesight. It's obvious to everyone that Tony loves you like a son. You're brilliant, way too nice, and a freaking kick-ass superhero. What's not to be jealous of?" I asked rhetorically. Peter, of course, felt the need to respond.

"You're the one he loves like a son!" the fledgling hero retorted emphatically. "He talks about you all the time, even before you moved in, telling me about projects you'd worked on alone and with him. I can't even imagine working together on a project with Mr. Stark. I'm not that smart."

"Christ, Parker, yes you are," I argued, giving him a mild glare. "You are just as smart as me if not smarter. What you lack is confidence."

"That's another thing," Peter continued as if I hadn't spoken, "you're like a miniature Tony Stark. You guys are so much alike that if I didn't know better I'd say you really are his biological son. The way you were talking with everyone at the party yesterday. It was so easy for you, and all I did was have a panic attack like some pathetic loser."

Damn, I thought with sympathy. He really did think lowly of himself, just like I did of myself. We really were a pair of idiots.

"Just because I looked calm didn't mean I was," I felt the need to tell him. "Before we walked into the party Tony had to calm me down because I was the one freaking out. I was so worried about embarrassing him," I admitted with a shake of my head, finding it somewhat amusing how alike Peter and I seemed to be.

"I'm a nobody from a nobody town in the middle of nowhere," I stated with a shrug of my shoulders. "Until you brought me to the tower, Tony and I hadn't even been in the same room since the day he broke into my barn years ago. Yeah, we stayed in contact and stuff, but I always thought he felt some sort of obligation towards me because I'd helped him out."

"That's crazy," Peter replied, giving a slight laugh. "From my point of view, I've always known he cared about you. Even before you showed up, I knew he didn't think of you as an obligation."

"And from my point of view," I added, "I knew from the moment he first started talking about 'his awesome new intern', that you were someone special. He talked about _you_ all the time, telling me how amazing, funny and smart you were. It wasn't hard for me to figure out your identity because he spoke about spider man with the same pride and joy that he spoke about you. He sought you out, Peter," I felt the need to say. "Tony doesn't do anything he doesn't want to, so if he willingly spends so much time with you, then you know it's because he wants to."

As I said those words, I mentally told myself the same thing. I knew Tony loved me. He'd never exactly said the words, but I knew now that he did. His actions alone proved it. I just needed to remind myself of that, I thought. He cared too much about me to get rid of me for causing him any trouble.

"Look," I felt the need to say again, "I'm sorry for how I've been acting. It sounds stupid now that I'm saying out loud, but I felt like if Tony had you then he wouldn't want me, and I have nowhere else to go." Peter looked ready to respond, so I rushed to cut off any of his reassuring words. "I know, I know, I know. It's not true, and I get that now, so I'm sorry. I can't say if we'll ever be best buds or anything, but I do promise to be nicer."

Peter was silent for several moments before smiling genuinely and saying a simple, "Okay." Once again, I marveled at his forgiving attitude.

"So, how much do you bet that Mr. Stark is listening in to our every word?" Peter asked disgruntledly, and I looked up towards one of Friday's cameras.

"Is Tony listening to us, Fri?" I questioned dryly.

"He is not listening in at the moment, Mini Boss (I resisted rolling my eyes at the name)," she informed me. "I have been advised, though, that if you two begin arguing with one another than I'm to inform him immediately."

"I can't believe she calls you Mini Boss," Peter teased with mirth in his eyes.

"That's Tony's doing," I griped, although it really didn't bother me. "I told him I didn't want to be called Mr. Stark as it made me sound old, so he chose that."

"If it really bothers you, I could call you something else," Friday spoke up, sounding apologetic, and I waved a dismissive hand.

"It doesn't bother me, Fri," I assured her kindly.

"So, do you think Mr. Stark would be mad if I left? I want to get in some patrolling before heading home," he asked aloud.

"First, who cares what he thinks, and second, for the love of all that is holy, Parker, will you stop calling him Mr. Stark. You're basically family, dude, so grow some cojones and call him Tony," I griped. "You treat him with way too much respect."

Peter blushed as he argued, "Well, I was taught to always show respect, and Mr. Stark is definitely someone who deserves it. He's my mentor, and I just…I don't know. It'd be weird to call him Tony. What if he didn't like it?"

I gave him an exasperated look. "What if he didn't like it?" I asked in disbelief. "I guarantee you Tony would prefer you refer to him by his first name. He just knows you too well to insist on it. _And_, Tony so does not deserve the amount of respect you show him. He's a totally normal guy whose way too arrogant for anybody's liking."

Peter frowned, looking uncomfortable yet contemplative. "How can you be so casual with him? You call him names and tease him, and I'm always stuttering as I try not to say anything stupid."

"I met a different Tony Stark than you," I answered plainly. "Tony was injured, in need of help, and suffering from anxiety when I found him in my barn. The first thing I did was threaten to shoot him with my potato gun. Also, I've never been big on respecting people, not until they earn it at least. Not to say I don't respect Tony. I respect him tons, but it's just…hmm…I guess teasing is how we show each other we care. It's our thing, I guess."

"Oh, um, I never did say thank you for what you did yesterday," Peter spoke up, a light blush on his cheeks. "For helping me with the panic attack," he added when I looked confused.

"Don't mention it," I insisted before he could give me a long drawn out apology. "I've seen Tony go through enough of those to know they're no fun."

"I had no idea he got panic attacks," Peter mumbled.

"Anxiety attacks," I corrected, "but that's not surprising. You put him on a pedestal and don't always remember that he's all too human. Also, Tony doesn't exactly talk about his issues with anyone…usually. He did forewarn me about them when we first met."

"I know he's human, but it's just that I've looked up to him for so long that it's hard to remember at times," the teen replied. "Now that I'm a hero I want to be just like him, and yeah, I know he's flawed, I'm not stupid, but I also can't help but see the best in him. What I mean is that even with his flaws, to me, he's perfect," he admitted sheepishly. "I know that sounds stupid and childish, but Mr. Stark is everything I hope to be."

I nodded my head in understanding while contemplating his words. Did I want to be like Tony too? I hadn't really thought about it, but if I was honest, I think I felt the same way as Peter. Despite all his mistakes and character defects, Tony was perfect to me too, and I'd count myself lucky if I turned out anything like him.

"I guess I feel the same way too," I confessed before suddenly glaring at the ceiling. "Friday, you better not breathe a word of this conversation to Tony. He's head is big enough as it is," I warned, face heating up at the mere thought of Tony hearing any part of this heart to heart Peter and I were having.

"No worries, Mini Boss," the AI responded amusedly, "your conversation will remain between you and Peter."

Letting out a sigh of relief, I stood up, shoving my hands into my pockets as I looked at Peter. "Great chat. See ya around, Spiderboy," I stated before walking away.

"Later, _Gizmo_," Peter called out teasingly, and I gave him a half-hearted glare. He just smiled cheekily before making is way towards his room. Shaking my head, I made my way to the lab, throwing myself into the chair next to Tony before kicking my feet up onto his lap. The mechanic simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow at me as he set down his latest model of the arc reactor.

"You two friends yet?" he asked me, and I shrugged as I replied, "Sure."

"Do I need to ask Friday for a transcript of your conversation?" he threatened, and I scoffed as I shook my head negatively.

"Everything's fine between us. We talked and got things sorted. No worries. I plan on being nothing but nice to your golden boy," I assured him, and Tony frowned lightly.

"You're not still feeling jealous are you?" he asked concernedly, and I immediately replied that I wasn't.

He looked like he didn't quite believe me, but only pursed his lips rather than prying. "Just know that you can talk to me if you need to, okay, Harls?"

"I know," I replied somewhat tiredly, having heard this statement more times than I could count the past couple months.

"Hey, I told Pete to start calling you Tony, so don't give him a hard time when he does. He's all about being respectful, and…," I trailed off with a wave of my hand as my guardian began to chuckle.

"Didn't see that as a fight worth taking on," he informed me with a smile. "Wanna make a bet on when he'll start using my name?" he then asked mischievously, and I immediately agreed.

"Three days," I said, and he smirked before saying, "Three _weeks_."

"Winner gets excused from all household chores for a month," I declared, Tony's eyebrows rising in amusement before he shook my hand.

The bet ended up spreading through the current inhabitants of the tower, Natasha smirking as she bet one week, Pepper looking at us in exasperation before betting two days, Rhodey rolling his eyes before while betting two weeks, and Happy snorting before betting nine days. May even got in on the bet, and I still had no idea how she found out. After glaring at Tony, she guessed that it'd be eight days before her nephew worked up the nerve to call Tony by his given name.

Peter never found out, and I honestly had no idea how that happened as we all weren't very subtle. Any time Tony wasn't around all of us had taken to asking him if he'd called Tony by his first name, although why we bothered asking was beyond me as Friday was instructed to let us know the second it happened.

When three days passed and I clearly lost the bet, I stormed into the spider boy's room, grabbed one of his pillows and repeatedly smacked him, letting him know that he'd cost me a bet. He stared at me with a gob smacked expression, his hair an absolute mess, and I simply glared before leaving the room without further explanation.

Tony, the arrogant, all-knowing schmuck ended up being right, but only because his bet was the closest as it took Peter a freaking month! In fact, he took so long we were all certain it'd never happen, so when it did, we almost didn't notice.

It was an ordinary day in the lab with Tony, Peter, and I all working on our own projects. I was building myself a motorcycle, something that amused Tony but concerned Pepper. She warned me that if I even thought of riding "that contraption" before I got a license that she'd make sure I'd regret ever being born. I thought the threat a bit much, so I'd blandly replied, "Bold of you to assume I don't already regret that."

The frigid glare and lecture from Pepper I'd received following my blasé words almost had me regretting them, but they hadn't taken away from my desire to ride the bike. I'd just have to find a way to get a license sooner rather than later. I wouldn't turn sixteen for a couple months, but the bike would be done by the end of this month. I had luckily been able to convince Natasha to teach me how to ride and keep it from my adoptive mom. I'd love to keep this from Tony, but almost nothing remained secret from him in a tower he'd created.

Anyways, Peter had been fixing a tear in his suit when he'd casually called out, "Hey, Tony, can I make myself a new suit? I've got a lot of new ideas and…what?" he asked after noticing both Tony and I looking at him with wide eyes.

"You called him Tony," I proclaimed in a near whisper, causing Peter's face to turn red, his eyes flicking from mine to Tony.

A slow smile spread across the billionaire's face before he let out a triumphant cheer, turning to me and proclaiming, "I win!" before rushing over to a shocked Peter and pulling him in for a hug.

"Damn," was all I could mutter, knowing that Tony was going to boast about this for ages.

We eventually got around to confessing to Peter about the bet after Tony had finished celebrating, and the teen had managed to look both outraged and embarrassed before turning resigned.

"Everybody was involved?" he asked in disbelief.

"Even May," I had to rub in with a smirk, delighting in his embarrassment.

Being the easy-going guy that he was, Peter quickly got over his embarrassment and simply pouted (or glared, if you asked him).

"From this moment forward I will only respond if you call me Tony," he informed Peter grandly. "No more of this Mr. Stark nonsense."

Peter had blushed even as he laughed. Tony ruffled Peter's hair before asserting that we needed to celebrate this historical moment.

We ordered in from a multitude of take-out places, everyone being invited, including May to our impromptu party. There was a good amount of ribbing with Peter, everyone hassling him on taking so long. Peter managed to look both mortified and pleased by the attention, especially Tony's attention.

"I swear," I teased Peter later, "the old man is acting like you're a baby that just called him Daddy for the first time."

Peter groaned loudly, his face taking on the red tone it'd had most of the evening.

"I told you he'd love it," I then added, eliciting a small smile from the teen.

"I still can't believe you were all betting on this," he groaned, and I laughed.

"I wanted to ask Ned to get in on it, but I knew he'd give it away. I did ask MJ, but she just rolled her eyes and walked away without a word," I informed him.

"So, are you really not coming back to school?" Peter asked after laughing.

"Nope," I answered with a wide grin. I'd finally managed to make it a month without causing any trouble, and Tony had kept his promise that I could be home schooled by him if I wanted. I'd all too happily chosen home schooling, having long since grown both annoyed and tired of the drab high school routine. Both Tony and Pepper had tried to convince me to stay at the high school, but I'd been adamant that I hated it and never wanted to return.

"You promised me," I had told Tony pointedly, and the man had let out a sigh before nodding his head and giving in.

"Being home schooled by Tony sounds awesome, but I'd miss my friends too much," Peter admitted, to which I shrugged. I hadn't even attempted to make friends, settling with occasionally hanging out with Peter, Ned, and MJ. The majority of my time was spent with adults, specifically Tony, Pepper, Natasha, and Rhodey.

Tony was both my adopted dad and best friend. We really did have a lot in common, most specifically our work ethic. We'd spend hours in the lab, getting lost in our work until someone reminded us to do such common things like eating, sleeping, and bathing.

Pepper was great to talk with, and I loved spending time with her as well. Where there was a chaotic energy with Tony that I craved, with Pepper there was a calming energy that I needed just as much. I felt more comfortable talking about my feelings with her. She was also teaching me about the business aspect of Stark Industries, and what it took to be CEO. Neither one of us discussed whether or not I was going to become CEO, but I enjoyed learning from her.

Natasha was my trainer and confidante. I could tell her anything and knew she wouldn't judge or tell anyone else. For example, I told her I wanted to be like her. I wanted to be able to fight and shoot, so I could protect not just myself but others. She'd asked whether I wanted to be a SHIELD agent, but I'd declined.

"I'm not good at following orders," I'd admitted.

She trained me hard, harder than Tony or Pepper would no doubt have allowed if they knew. The long, intense hours paid off, though, and I could see my muscle mass increasing along with my fighting skills. Obviously, I was nowhere near Natasha's level, but she was pleased with my progress.

Rhodey was someone I could just chill with. He was someone who I let myself be a kid with as he took me to arcades, the park, bowling, ice skating, museums and even an amusement park. Hell, we'd even gone on a ghost story tour one night, which had been more exciting than I'd thought it'd be. When I'd asked him why he did all this with me, he'd simply shrugged and said it was stuff he'd done with Tony when Tony had been the same age as me.

Peter and I were slowly getting to know each other better, but I still wouldn't call us close as we rarely spent much time around one another outside of school. We had an understanding that we were both Tony's "kids", which bonded us, but I wouldn't have described our relationship as close or even brotherly, which was what I'm sure Tony hoped for.

It would take something big for us to reach that level, something like a kidnapping.

Yeah, that's right, a kidnapping.

I was coming home from the grocery store one evening when I happened upon Peter, or more specifically Spiderman fighting with some enhanced beings. They seemed to glow an orange-red color that immediately caused my mind flash back to 2013. I stiffened, my bags dropping from my hand as I ran towards the fight. People were screaming, panicking, especially when they saw the beings literally breathing out fire.

I now remembered Tony telling me about Extremis and how the people he'd fought when saving the President had the capability to breathe fire. He'd also told me that the man responsible for the whole Mandarin schtick was dead and that he was the only one with the formula.

Apparently not, I thought, as I ran behind a car to hide from one of the fire-breathers. Watching Peter, I marveled at his abilities, but I could also tell he was outmatched. It was five against one, and he was slowly losing. I'd barely begun to wonder where the hell Tony was when I remembered he was out of the country.

Digging into my backpack that I always carried with me when outside the tower, I grabbed my handmade blaster and an arc reactor, slapping it onto my chest before activating it. It was strictly armor, just for protection and evasion, a last case scenario according to Tony.

I'd begged him for an actual Iron Man suit, but he'd been adamant that there was no way in hell I'd be getting one. I'd put it in my mind to modify this one into one, but when Tony had caught me, he'd been furious. An entire 24 hours went by before he'd calmed down enough to talk to me without yelling, but even then, he'd still been angry enough to threaten to permanently ban me from his lab if he ever caught me in an Iron Man suit without his permission. I had no idea if he'd been exaggerating or not so I'd decided for once in my life to just do as I was told without question.

Whether his threat was real or not, however, I'd also seen the fear and concern behind his anger and knew that he wasn't trying to just be a dick. He was scared of me being hurt. He was scared of losing me, so I'd kept my hands off this suit as promised.

Staring at the five fire breathers almost made me regret being such a rule follower as I desperately wished I could blast these assholes. I was glad that Tony didn't know about the blaster I'd created because I put it to good use when I shot at two goons right as they were ready to ponce on my spider brother from another mother.

"T-Tony?" Peter slurred as I quickly helped him to his feet.

"Sorry, but no," I replied, shooting my blaster towards anybody who tried to approach. The fire-breathers seemed momentarily caught off guard, no doubt thinking like Peter that I was actually Iron Man. This bought us enough time for me to pull Peter into my arms and begin to fly away with him. I prayed to all the deities I could think of that we'd be able to get away from the creeps.

Unfortunately, luck was not on our sides as when I went to dodge one fire blast and then two when I was shot with a third, which caused both Peter and I to let out a yell in both pain and fright. We crashed down onto the roof of some building and were promptly descended upon. I tried to fight off as many as I could, but once my blaster was melted, it didn't take them long to restrain me. Two strong arms wrapped around me, heating up my suit, which began to sear my skin. I screamed out in pain right before a woman grabbed my arc reactor and ripped it off my chest. Completely unprotected, they knocked my unconscious with a single punch.

I came to with a gasp, groaning at the pounding in my head. The room was spinning as my stomach churned, and I promptly rolled over and threw up what little I had in my stomach. A hand came to rest on my back, and I flinched horribly before immediately relaxing when I saw it was Peter.

"You okay?" he asked me in concern, and I nodded my head even as I grimaced from the pain that caused.

"What about you?" I asked with the same concern, taking in his disheveled state. Peter was in sweats and a large, dirty shirt that clearly didn't belong to him. There was some weird collar around his neck, and a rather nasty bruise on his cheek.

"I'm good," he replied quietly before gesturing to his collar. "This is suppressing my powers, so I can't—I'll figure a way to get us out of this," he assured me, and I pursed my lips as I sat myself up.

"_We'll_ find a way out of this," I corrected firmly. "We're in this together, Spider man. I'm not some helpless kid."

Peter's face was grim as he looked back at me with eyes that suddenly made him look much older than his sixteen years. I had no idea what he was thinking, but he eventually gave me a curt nod before saying, "Don't be reckless, okay? We're both going to get out of this alive. No self-sacrificing moves."

"Got it," I immediately agreed before shooting him a pointed look and adding, "and the same goes for you."

The teen gave me a single nod before settling himself down comfortably next to me.

"What do you know?" I questioned, and he frowned as he answered, "Not much. I was knocked out not long after you were, and I only woke up a couple minutes ago. I haven't heard or seen anyone, and I have no idea how long we've been unconscious or where we are," he admitted, sounding immensely frustrated.

I felt my heart rate kick up as the magnitude of our situation began to hit me. We were in a dark, cement room with a single light bulb to illuminate it. I saw stairs leading up to a door that I was sure was locked, leading me to believe we were in a basement. Were we in someone's house? Continuing to look around, I looked for anything that could help us, but found nothing. There were no windows, and the piping was too high up for me to reach.

Liquid got into my eye, and I wiped away at it only to realize it was blood. Tentatively feeling around the side of my head, I winced when I felt the gash.

Peter grabbed hold of my hand to keep me from touching it anymore. "Are you sure you're alright?" he pressed, and murmured a quiet, "Yeah," before pulling off my t-shirt and placing it on the gash to help stem the bleeding or at least soak up some of the blood.

Leaning close to Peter, I briefly explained to him what I knew about the fire-breathers.

He nodded, his expression weary as he remarked on having seen their extraordinary healing abilities in person.

"Do you think they know who we are?" I queried, and Peter raised an eyebrow at me.

"I have a feeling they know who you are, but I don't know if they know who I am, besides being Spider man, of course," he stated.

"What do you think they want?" I then asked, but before Peter responded, the door burst open, a trio of men coming down the stairs. One was an older guy in a business suit, unrecognizable to me while the other two I recognized from earlier.

Peter and I both got to our feet, Peter forcing me to stay behind me. I shoved his arm away, forcing myself next to him. I wasn't going to let him get hurt protecting me, especially when he was now as vulnerable as me.

"Your bravery is admirable," the old man in the suit remarked with mild amusement, "but I suppose I shouldn't expect anything less from Tony's son and protégé."

I frowned, biting my tongue to keep from saying something flippant and stupid. The man's single statement and the tone he used clued me in that he knew Tony personally, which made this kidnapping revenge.

Had they been after just Peter though? Did they know his secret identity? Did they know I'd been there? Peter and I gave each other side glances, and I knew the same thoughts were coursing through his mind.

"What do you want?" Peter asked boldly, his face, posture, and tone showing nothing but confidence and assuredness. There was no sign of the awkward, shy teen I'd come to know over the past several months. This was Spider man, and he wasn't going to let anyone intimidate him. I felt my respect rise for the other teen.

"Revenge," the man answered flippantly, "but I'm sure you two already realized that."

"Who are you and how do you know Tony?" I questioned, heart pounding as I wondered what revenge would mean for us.

"My name is Obadiah Stane," the old guy answered amicably, and I instantly recognized the name.

"You ordered the terrorist attacks on Tony," I accused with sudden venom, and Peter gave me a look of shock. "You're supposed to be dead."

"So is he, yet here we are," was the calm response I received, causing me to narrow my eyes.

"What do you want from us?" Peter hissed in sudden fury, and I realized he was pissed about what Obadiah had done to Tony. He clearly hadn't known.

Obadiah raised an eyebrow before looking back at the man on his left. Apparently, that was a signal for the man immediately approached us, reaching a hand out towards me.

"Don't you dare touch him!" Peter hollered, shoving the man away from me. The words had barely escaped his mouth when he let out a loud yell of pain and collapsed to the floor. I watched in stunned horror as he practically convulsed as electricity coursed through his body from the collar around his throat.

"Stop it," I barely whispered, before coming to my senses and shouting, "Stop it!" as loud as I could. "

"You'll kill him!" I roared, giving the bald man a pleading look. Peter immediately stopped yelling, and I noticed for the first time the little device Obadiah had in his hand. I knelt next to Peter, gently rubbing his back as I murmured over and over, "You're okay, you're okay." Peter was breathing heavily, his muscles twitching as he forced himself into a seated position. I helped him stand up, steadying him as he nearly fell to the floor again. He gave me a brief, thankful look before I found myself being grabbed by the back of the neck.

"It's okay!" I quickly yelled to Peter, not wanting him to interfere and get electrocuted again. He was trembling, and I knew it was from rage this time rather than the aftereffects of the electricity. I kept my eyes locked on his as I was hauled away, wanting to reassure him that I would be fine.

I don't think he believed me, but he remained quiet and motionless as I was pulled up the stairs and out of the basement. My eyes were everywhere as I was dragged through what appeared to be a mansion. Not what I expected, but I attempted to memorize my path and take everything in before I was shoved into a lab room. For a non-Stark lab, it was pretty high-tech, and I found myself impressed.

I whistled lowly, raising an eye at the ugly thug who I assumed was my new babysitter. It didn't take a genius to figure out what I was doing in a lab. These guys clearly wanted me to build something. Only question now, was what did they want? I was smart, yeah, but I was very obviously no Tony Stark. Not only did I doubt I could build what they wanted, but I doubted I could fool them and pull off some kick-ass escape like Tony did in Afghanistan.

I withheld a sigh, attempting to appear unconcerned as I watched several people walk into the room, Stane leading them.

"What do you want me to build?" I blatantly asked, not wanting to play games.

Stane raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking in amusement. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, the old man walked towards me and placed a heavy hand on top of my head. He ruffled my hair, and I glared as I pushed his hand off me.

"You certainly have your adopted father's arrogance," Stane remarked, his eyes full of hatred. I couldn't help the but shiver at the look, never having experienced someone looking at me like this. I'd been stared at with disgust and disdain, but never had I seen such cold, hateful eyes. I had no doubt that this man wouldn't hesitate to kill me. In fact, he'd probably enjoy it.

"I don't need you to build anything, though" Stane stated dismissively. "You may be intelligent, but you are no Tony Stark, and I have plenty of intelligent people working for me."

I couldn't bring myself to even feel insulted, my stomach twisting itself into knots as I thought over what this could mean. If he didn't want me to build him anything, then what was I here for? I hadn't forgotten how he said Peter and I were here for revenge…

My attention was drawn as Thing 1 pressed a button on a wall causing a steel table to fold out. My palms began to sweat at the sight of the restraints, and I pathetically attempted to fight against Thing 2 as she far too easily forced me onto the table. Restraints were wrapped around my wrists and legs, a leather strap pulled across my chest while another was pulled over my forehead keeping my head flat against the metal.

I was effectively pinned down, and for the first time I felt my fear begin to overwhelm me. My mouth went dry and my heart pounded as I heard movement go on around me. Out of my peripheral vision I noticed tools of some sort being placed on a nearby table before multiple footsteps seemed to leave the room.

"It's just you and me now, Harley," Stane informed me with an easy smile as he removed his suit jacket and began to roll up the sleeves to his pristine dress shirt.

"What're you gonna do?" I had to ask, the tremor in my voice giving away my fear. I cursed my cowardliness. At least attempt to be brave, I scolded myself, especially when I watched Stane's smile widen.

"Tony's weakness has always been his heart," the old man began to explain, his tone coming off disgusted. "I tried to rid him of that in childhood, but eventually I learned to use it against him. I learned to use his love for me to get him to do as I wanted. He eventually became too big for his britches, which is why I ordered the hit on him, and well…we both know how that turned out." He paused, a prominent frown marring his face before he gave a slight shake and began to smile again.

"Clearly, my insufferable godson has feelings for you otherwise he wouldn't have adopted you," the man continued conversationally. "What this means for you, my unfortunate child, is that you are my ticket to hurting Tony. I could kill you outright, but there's no fun in that. I think long, drawn out torture will hurt him more, don't you think? And, after I grow bored, I'll put you out of your misery and send your lifeless corpse along with a video of our time together to your father."

Even though I could feel the blood draining from my face and my heart racing, I managed to dredge up a bit of bravado as I hissed, "You better kill me now, asshole, because Tony will find me, and when he does he'll tear you to shreds."

Stane laughed loudly before giving me an almost pitying look. "Let's see how long that unwavering faith in Tony lasts once the pain starts."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Rescue Me Please**

**Harley's POV:**

"Harley, come on, man, please wake up," a far away voice spoke insistently. "Please, please wake up. Please wake up," the annoying voice continued, and I groaned, absentmindedly waving my hand towards the voice in hopes that they'd shut up.

I felt exhausted, more tired than I'd felt in a long time, and I just wanted to sleep. Sleep, however, quickly became unachievable as pain began to overwhelm my senses. I hurt. I hurt _everywhere_.

Opening my eyes, I took in the sight of two wide brown eyes attached to a pale, sweaty face topped with dirty curls.

"Pet'r," I slurred, making to sit up, but immediately falling back when I felt sharp pain in my ribs.

"Take it easy," Peter spoke softly. "Don't try and get up. You're pretty hurt, so just rest," he advised, and while I was silently agreeing with his assessment, my mind raced with trying to figure out how I came to be this way.

My mind felt so fuzzy, but it didn't take long for my memories to begin to surface.

"Oh god," I moaned, a stray tear trailing down my face as I remembered what was going on and how I ended up this way.

Obadiah Stane.

Revenge against Tony.

Torture.

Pain.

The pain was suddenly all I could focus on, and I looked to Peter, desperate for distraction.

"You alright?" I asked, and he gave me a nod and a reassuring grin.

"Yeah, they haven't really done much to me," he replied, and damn it all if he didn't sound guilty. I almost snorted, but that would've taken too much effort.

Forcing myself into a seating position, I looked more closely at the young hero, noting some cuts and bruises that he hadn't had before. I pointed at one of the nastier cuts with my hand, and he waved away my concern.

"They removed this stupid collar and forced me to fight with several of those fire dudes," he informed me, and again, I heard the guilt. "Honestly, I think they were just bored."

I made a noise of acknowledgment, glad that was the worst he'd suffered. At least one of us was uninjured, and he was the better choice. I was the one feeling guilty now as I knew I had officially become a burden. The damned do-gooder wouldn't dare to try and escape if he didn't think I'd make it out too. I'd have to convince him, somehow.

"I'm sure help will come soon," Peter stated vehemently, "so just hang on a little longer. Tony is no doubt already on his way."

Raising an eyebrow at the teen, I smiled a little as I grimly stated, "I must look like shit for you to be talking like that. Am I dying or something?"

Peter's eyes were sad as he stared at me, and I could tell he didn't want to answer me.

"You're not dying," he answered in a small voice, and I nodded my head once, having assumed that on my own.

I looked down at my body for the first time since I awoke and sucked in a startled breath at the amount of blood I saw. My shirt, which I was sure had been grey earlier was now a dark red color. I mean, the _entire_ thing was soaked with blood, and when I saw my arms, I understood why. There were cut marks _everywhere_. Deep enough to hurt and bleed, but not deep enough to cause permanent damage. Looking further down, I realized my jeans had been removed, leaving me in just my boxers, and my legs were in the same state.

When I'd been on that table all I'd felt was pain, but I'd had no idea what Stane had been doing. He's shown me the scalpel, and I'd felt the cuts, but seeing how many there were now, I wondered if he'd continued after I'd passed out.

Tentatively, I began to move my arms and legs, attempting to figure out if anything was broken. I knew my ribs were at least bruised as I clearly remembered that happening. Both my shoulders ached terribly, and I quickly let my arms fall back down. Stane had popped both my shoulders out and then back into their sockets.

My legs, mercifully, hadn't suffered any breaks, just the multitude of cuts. My feet had no broken bones either, but the cuts were much more excruciating on the sensitive flesh than on any other part of my body.

"Looks worse than it is," I asserted to which Peter responded with a disbelieving look.

"Just a bunch of flesh wounds," I expanded. "He just wanted to hurt me, not kill."

"Well, that makes it all better," Peter remarked sarcastically, venom in his tone.

"Not yer fault," I told him firmly, knowing that he was blaming himself. "There's nothing you could've done. Anyways, like you said, Tony'll be here soon, right?" I had wanted that to come out a statement, but it came out more like a plea.

I was in pain, and even if none of these were life-threatening, they hurt like a bitch. The psychological trauma, I think, was worse as I hadn't been able to see what Stane had been doing. All I'd been able to stare at was the ceiling or his sneering face. All I'd been able to hear was his cruel voice or my own screams.

"I'm sure he will be," Peter reassured me with an encouraging smile. "I saw that my suit was here, and there's a tracker in it, so the Avenges will no doubt be busting down the doors any second."

I nodded my head in agreement even though I didn't believe him. If the tracker had been working, they would've been here by now. I had no doubt Tony would come for us, but I had no idea how long it'd take for that to happen. I had no idea if I'd still be alive by then.

I shivered from the cold, and my nose wrinkled in disgust from the strong scent of my own blood. Seeing this, Peter took off his shirt and handed it to me. I made to object, but he told me he too was bothered by the strong scent of blood. I didn't know whether he was being honest or not, but I didn't bother overthinking it, and just took the offered shirt.

Peter had to help me take my shirt off, which was a much more painful endeavor that I ever thought it'd be. By the time I had his shirt on, I was panting from both exertion and pain.

"How long do you think we've been here?" I asked curiously, and Peter looked thoughtful before replying, "Less than a day. You were only gone a few hours, I think."

"I know the Avengers are coming and all, but how about you help them out by getting out and leading them here?" I suggested, and Petey boy frowned at me.

"I don't know what you think of me, but I would _never_ abandon you," he declared vehemently, and I resisted rolling my eyes.

"S'not what I'm sayin'," I slurred, my lids starting to feel heavy again. I was so tired. Maybe it was the blood loss. "Just think…be faster if you…lead them here…," I managed to say before sleep overtook me…

…I came to with a jolt and a yell but was unable to move as I once more found myself strapped down.

No, no, no, no, no, I thought repeatedly in my head, my eyes flicking around the room. Once again, it was just Stane and I, and while I managed to glare at him, I couldn't keep from flinching when he gave me a light pat on the head.

"How was your nap, Harley? Feeling rested and ready to start again?" he had the gall to ask.

I spat out a curse, which only seemed to entertain him as he just chuckled.

"So, what tool should I test out now?" he asked rhetorically, looking somewhere towards his left. Heart pounding already, I struggled with my restraints, but they were as immovable as ever. Turning back towards me Stane placed electrodes all over my body.

Oh, shit.

"Let's see how many volts you can take before you pass out," Stane spoke, and my mind raced with a way to keep him distracted from further torturing me. Keep him talking, I thought. Ask him something!

"How are you still alive?" I blurted out. "Tony told me you were killed when his company's arc reactor blew up. You don't even have any burns."

Raising an eyebrow at me, Stane looked contemplative for a moment before giving a mild shrug.

"SHIELD saved me," he began, and I felt a jolt of shock and then anger on Tony's behalf. How could SHIELD have kept something like this from him? Then, I remembered why SHIELD no longer existed, so I asked a question.

"SHIELD or Hydra?"

Stane gave me an almost approving look as he nodded his head. "Hydra, of course. They felt my knowledge of Tony and Stark Industries could prove beneficial to them."

"I can see that worked out well," I commented with a smirk, inwardly smacking myself for my loose lips. The point of this chat was to keep him occupied, not get him angry. Thankfully, the ogre's response was simply a cold stare.

"Did you work with Killian?" I rushed to ask before he decided torture was more interesting than this conversation.

"Yes," he replied, "which is how I obtained myself a dozen Extremis bodyguards. I anticipated Maya Hansen's change in heart, which is why I made sure to get all information on Extremis prior to her's and Killian's deaths. I've had scientists working on it ever since, perfecting it so that there'd be no more explosive consequences, which would have alerted Tony."

"You've taken it," I deduced with a deep frown, and Stane's responding smile was answer enough.

"Why haven't you gone after Tony, then?" I pressed in honest curiosity.

"Because I'd lose," was the simple response. "I want to hurt my insufferable godson and attacking him head-on has proven fruitless for countless people already. Besides, as I already told you, the best way to hurt Tony is to hurt those he cares about. So, let's get back to business, shall we young Stark?"

My heart began to race again as I heard him connecting wires and powering on a machine.

"Tony is going to kill you, I swear to god!" I yelled with as much bravado as possible. "Whatever you do to me, he'll do ten times worse to you!"

Stane stood over me again, and I was taken aback when he told me, "I have no doubt Tony will eventually find us. Whether he'll kill me or not, I'm uncertain. He was always rather soft. Regardless, I don't care what he does to me, because whatever it is, it will never undo what I do to you or that little spider freak downstairs."

"What're you doing to Peter?" I questioned fearfully.

"Nothing for you to worry about," the monster replied, and with that I heard the flip of a switch before pain enveloped me.

Screams tore from my throat, my body jerking involuntarily as jolts of electricity coursed through my every nerve.

The electricity was cut off, and I was left gasping, tears spilling down my face from the amount of pain I'd felt. I'd barely caught my breath when the I heard the switch of a flip once more and all I could do was howl in agony. I couldn't think. I couldn't even plead for him to stop, because if I could I'd have been begging, pride be damned.

The jolts stopped abruptly and through my gasps for breath I heard yelling and the crashing. It was hard to make out, because everything suddenly sounded like I was underwater. My body kept spasming, and I still felt like I couldn't get enough oxygen in.

I saw Stane come into my view and even though I knew he was saying something to me, I couldn't make it out. I could make out his evil smirk and the gun in his hand, though.

This is it, I thought dismally. What a pathetic life I'd led. I'd done nothing good. I was responsible for Mom and Anna's death, and now I'd be used to hurt Tony. God, I'm so useless. I deserve this. I just wish Tony wouldn't take this hard. I wish he wouldn't blame himself. He'd be better off without me, anyways.

Feeling a sense of peace envelop me at these dark thoughts, I fearlessly stared back at Stane. I felt the cold metal of the gun barrel touch my left temple, and I closed my eyes.

I'm sorry, Tony, I couldn't help but think. I'm sorry I was such a failure.

_BANG!_

My eyes flew open in shock, heart hammering as I saw a red and blue blur rip my restraints.

Spider man. Peter. I attempted to greet him, but nothing came out of my mouth. I felt myself being picked up, only to let out a pained yell when both Peter and I were blown into a wall. Black spots began to dance in front of my eyes, but that didn't stop me from catching a large gold and red figure.

Mouth splitting into a grin, I managed to focus on the blur I knew to be Stane and say, "Told you he'd come."

**Tony's POV:**

My blood boiled as I looked between my injured boys and Obadiah Stane. I honestly didn't care how he was still alive. All I cared about was what he'd done to my kids. Seeing Peter bruised and with a collar had been bad enough, but Harley…I swallowed, feeling fury envelop my entire being as I stared at the man I'd once looked to like a father.

"Tony, how are you, my boy?" Stane asked jovially. "I was wondering when you'd stop by. As you can see, I was just spending some quality time with your son and mentee. They both remind me of you."

My helmet retracted, and I glared fiercely at Stane, my hands itching to simply choke the life out of him. I'd never wanted to hurt someone so badly as I did in this moment. Not even when I'd found out Barnes had killed my parents. I'd wanted to kill Barnes, but Stane…I wanted to kill him slowly and painfully. I wanted him to suffer.

"Get both of you out of here, Peter," I ordered the hero, knowing that the other Avengers and SHIELD agents would've cleared the way for him enough to get to safety.

Peter said nothing as he picked Harley up, but as he made to exit, a blast of fire stopped them in place. I stared in shock at Stane, who was now glowing a familiar red color. I should've known he'd take Extremis himself. He'd been more than eager to don the Iron Monger suit in order to take me out.

"So, why go after kids when you clearly had the power to come after me?" I asked, hoping to keep his attention on me rather than the boys. "Afraid I'd beat you?"

"This was never about beating you," Stane remarked calmly. "It was about hurting you." And, with those words, he began to glow even brighter, the power of Extremis beginning to burn his clothes.

Eyes widening in horror, I realized instantly what he was planning to do.

"Everybody evacuate NOW!" I roared into the comms. "Extremis explosion imminent! Blast radius half a mile at minimum!" Even as I spoke those words, I was racing towards Peter and Harley, intent on grabbing them and flying away. Stane, obviously anticipated this, for he rushed towards them with speed no doubt gained from Extremis. He reached the teens before me, but I barely had time to panic before Peter pulled back a fist and punched Stane so hard he went flying across the room.

He didn't get up again, but instead began yelling, signifying he was about to explode. Gathering the teens into my arms, I blasted into the air just as Stane exploded. Fear enveloped me as I pushed my suit as fast as I could, but even then, I still felt the heat and force of the blast. We all screamed as I attempted to stabilize us, but I could feel my jets failing, the heat searing even through my suit. I could feel us plummeting, and I did the best I could to protect my kids, willing my armor to wrap around them protectively instead of me. If we were crashing, then at least they'd be protected.

I was struggling to remotely control my suit in order to protect Peter and Harley while watching the explosion quickly approaching when I heard a loud roar come from below us. Grinning widely despite the pain I was in, I let out a laugh of relief when I felt Hulk's huge arms wrap around all three of us. With a single jump he got us well away from the blast radius and to safety.

We landed in the middle of a street, a huge crater forming as cars screeched to a halt around us. Thankfully, Hulk hadn't landed on anybody, but we now had a group of onlookers, phones already recording before they'd even come to a complete stop.

Gasping out due to both pain and adrenaline, I noticed Peter looking dazed while Harley was unconscious. I looked back in the direction of the blast and hoped that everyone had made it out safely.

"We need to get these boys to a hospital," I yelled to Hulk, and he grunted in acknowledgement before taking off at a run, the three of us cradled in his arms. For such a large creature, the Hulk could be surprisingly gentle.

It took mere minutes to reach a hospital, and although stunned, the doctors and nurses quickly attended to the boys' needs. I waved them off when they approached me, urging them to focus on the teens. I ordered them to leave Spider-man's mask on, but otherwise let them do what they needed. From the looks of it, Peter's wounds were more superficial, and with his quick healing he'd no doubt be fine in a couple of days. Harley's injuries, however…my blood boiled in fury while my eyes filled with tears of sorrow.

Why Stane? _Why?!_

Did he really hate me so much as to cause an innocent kid this much pain? He'd literally tortured a child just to get back at me!

I stared stonily at Harley, watching the nurses washing blood off his body. He looked incredibly young and small right now, his face paler than I'd ever seen it. He'd been gone less than two days, and he looked worse than after a month on the streets.

_Damn you, Obadiah_! He never deserved this! You should've taken your anger out on me, not Harley! Not Peter! Not _my_ kids!

"Mr. Stark," a nurse interrupted, "will you allow us to tend to your injuries now? Both boys are being taken care of, and your burns need treatment if you'd like to prevent infection and reduce possible scarring.

Burns? Is that why I'm in pain? I reluctantly took my eyes off of Harley to look down at myself and was shocked to see I had burns going up and down both arms, and that my undersuit had burn holes in it. I'd been so focused on protecting Harley and Peter that I hadn't even noticed the pain I was in. It had to have been the adrenaline, because now as it was beginning to wear off, the pain in not just my arms but my body as well was beginning to increase.

As I was being looked over, Bruce walked in with Rhodey at his side. Both men looked extremely concerned, and upon seeing the state of not just me but Harley and Peter, their expressions turned alarmed.

"We need Helen Cho," I told them, and without a word, Bruce pulled out his phone and called her. Rhodey's eyes scanned the unconscious teens, lingering on Harley before landing on me.

"You look like shit," he remarked, and I grimaced, not having the energy for a smart-ass retort.

"Got caught in the blast. Had the suit protect the kids before Hulk caught us," I explained hoarsely. "Fucking Stane. He blew himself up."

Rhodey's expression darkened before softening in way too much understanding when he sat himself down next to me. My body was trembling now from the pain, so I was relieved when Bruce said Helen was already at the Avengers compound and that we had a Quinjet waiting for us.

Peter woke up at this point, his eyes wide as he looked around the room.

I'd been given pain medicine along with ointment and bandages over my burns to keep them from infecting, so Peter's eyes turned to panic when he saw me.

"Hey, pal," I greeted with a wide smile, going over and wrapping an arm around him. He hugged me back very lightly before asking me to explain what happened. I explained to him everything that had happened since I was notified of his kidnapping while we moved to the Quinjet, and while we were flying, he explained what he'd experienced.

I could feel my blood pressure rise at hearing how they'd toyed with Peter; however, I was glad he hadn't suffered the same treatment as Harley. Looking at my adopted son for the umpteenth time, my heart constricted painfully at what he had to have suffered through. The pain of torture was one thing, but add the mental torment to that…what state would he be in when he woke up?

I gritted my teeth as I recalled the scene I'd come upon in that god forsaken house. I didn't think I'd ever be able to get the image of Harley screaming and writhing on that table as Stane electrocuted him. His screams of agony echoed in my ears, and I wished desperately that Stane hadn't killed himself because I gladly would've broken every bone in his body one by one before ripping him limb from limb.

A nudge of my leg turned my attention to Rhodes who assured me that Harley would be fine.

"Physically," I acknowledged, fully trusting the capabilities of Helen, "but what about mentally? I'm worried enough about Peter whose at least had some training dealing with mental trauma, but Harleys had none of that. He's not some trained soldier, agent, or superhero. He's just a kid."

"He's stronger than you think," Peter interjected in a serious tone. "Despite what he'd been through, he was urging me to escape on my own since he knew he was dead weight. I'm not saying this won't affect him—I mean, I'll admit to being shaken up by what happened, but Harley will get through this because you won't let him deal with it alone. I know I've got all of you and May to help me, and so will Harley."

"I'd listen to him," Rhodes stated with a smug grin. "He's pretty wise for someone who's spent so much time with you."

Giving my oldest friend a brief glare, I then nodded to Peter, gracing the young man with a proud smile. He'd come so far since I'd first met him. He really was shaping up to be a great hero.

We arrived at HQ and Helen greeted us on the helipad along with several associates. It was just as we were attempting to move Harley into the cradle that the injured teen awoke with a start, kicking and hollering like a cornered animal. His eyes were wide with fear yet unseeing as he socked a man straight in the eye and bit a woman on the forearm.

I rushed over, narrowly avoiding a foot to the face as I attempted to gain his attention. The nurses managed to grab hold of Harley's flailing limbs, but this only seemed to worsen the situation as a scream of terror escaped his mouth. His eyes seemed to widen even more as did his desperate attempts to escape. I stood still in momentary shock at the scene before I ordered everyone to leave the teen alone.

"Get out!" I ordered harshly. "Now!" I insisted desperately, realizing that Harley was in the midst of a flashback, and that unfamiliar faces attempting to restrain him would only worsen the situation.

Once the room was cleared of everyone but Dr. Cho, who stood still and silent at the doorway, I once more approached Harley. I kept my voice soft and my expression gentle as I spoke to him.

"Hey, bud, it's Tony. Everything is alright now. You're safe," I spoke, and Harley's panicked, empty eyes focused on me. His gasping breaths seemed to slow, and I knew when his awareness came back because his eyes filled with utter relief, a quiet sob escaping him.

"Dad," he called brokenly, his hands reached out towards me like a toddler wanting to be picked up. Stunned though I was by what he called me, I didn't hesitate to rush over and pull him into my arms, practically cradling him as he cried into my chest. His cries tore through my being as they were filled with both fear and sorrow. I tightened my old, offering all the comfort I could to the broken teen. When would this world stop tormenting my boys?

I whispered soft and reassuring words, fighting back tears of my own as Harley's tears soaked my bandages. It was several minutes before Harley quieted, but it was only due to him passing out from exhaustion. Looking over to Helen, she quickly came over and once more readied the cradle. I very gently lay my boy down, relieved that his injuries could be fully healed by Helen's machine.

"I've set up the other cradle for you, Mr. Stark," Helen informed me, but I waved her away. There was no way I was leaving Harley alone, not after seeing the state he was in. A compromise was reached when she placed the cradle right next to Harley. Settling myself down, my eyes never wavered from Harley as Helen's equipment did its work.

He would be okay. I would make sure of it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: How could I be so weak?**

**Harley's POV:**

I came in and out of consciousness, disoriented each time as I struggled to understand where I was and what was going on. I would only last mere minutes, though, before blessed sleep would overcome me. I wanted to stay sleeping forever. I never wanted to wake up, because waking up would mean I'd have to face what happened. I'd have to face how weak I'd been.

How could I ever have thought that I could be any type of hero when I'd fallen apart so easily under Stane's torture? How could I have any pride in myself when the second I'd awoken I'd flipped out on everyone and then burst into tears like a hysterical little kid?

Voices surrounded me, and slowly they began to filter through my muddled thoughts. Tony. Pepper. May. Peter.

_Peter!_

My eyes flashed opened and I sat up, eyes seeking out Peter. Was he okay? I heard my name being called, but my eyes were firmly on the teen, assessing him for any injuries. He returned my gaze with deeply concerned eyes.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" Pepper questioned, sitting herself next to me.

"I'm fine," I mumbled distractedly before then looking at Tony.

"Is he dead?" I asked outright, unsure of whether I wanted him to be or not.

Tony's brow furrowed in concern, his lips pursing momentarily before he gave a slow nod. "Blew himself up and tried to take us with him."

I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding in and just nodded in response. I felt relieved more than anything. Relieved that he'd never be able to hurt me again. I'd like to say I felt righteous anger or something brave like that, but it was the coward in me that spoke when I said, "Good."

I flinched when I felt a hand settle lightly on my shoulder, head snapping towards Pepper who was looking at me with eyes full of worry. Her hand hovered awkwardly in the air before she settled it down in her lap.

"How do you feel?" Pepper inquired, and I looked down at my arms and hands, shocked to see not a single stitch or scar. Stane had cut me all over my body and I didn't have a single mark on me. Flinging my blanket off my lower torso, I looked over my legs, again shocked to see no signs of torture. I knew the Avengers had access to good medicine, but still…

"You don't have any," Tony stated, interrupting my thoughts, and I gave him a blank look.

"Scars," he expanded. "You don't have any. We put you in the Cradle –do you remember me telling you about that?" He fell silent for a few moments, probably waiting for me to respond, but I didn't. Instead, I looked around the room, noticing that everyone else had left.

"Are you in pain?" Tony now asked, and I shook my head.

"I'm fine," I answered dully.

"Was anyone besides me hurt?" I questioned, and he let out a soft sigh as he shook his head negatively.

"No," he replied. "There was some minor stuff, but you took the brunt of the damage, bud."

"Gotta come out on top," I remarked with a humorless chuckle.

"Nothing about the state you were in was funny to me," Tony asserted, his tone strained.

I winced internally, head hanging as guilt gnawed at me. I was such a failure.

"I'm sorry," I apologized in a near whisper. "I should have"—I began, but was cut off by a harsh, "Don't!" from Tony.

I stared at him with startled eyes, but he said nothing, only closing his eyes and looking anywhere but at me. I only felt guiltier at that, so I looked back down at my sheets.

Why was I so pathetically weak?

I felt the bed sink as Tony sat himself down next to me. Without a word he wrapped his left arm around me and pulled me closer to him. I tensed and attempted to pull away, but he tightened his grip and leaned his head into mine.

"Just relax, bud," he spoke softly, beginning to knead my head gently with his hand. "Just relax and listen."

I stopped struggling, but mostly due to fatigue than having given up. I let out a huff, elbowing the older man when he chuckled lightly.

Tony continued massaging my head, and it felt so good I found my eyes closing of their own volition. I didn't want to sleep.

The gentle massaging continued, and I gave a moan of appreciation even as I complained, "I'm not a dog."

Another chuckle escaped Tony, and I felt the vibrations through his chest.

"Thought you wanted me to listen to you or something, but you're not saying anything," I griped, giving him another elbow into the stomach.

"Just waiting for you to relax, Gizmo," was the response I got, and I grumbled before falling silent and doing as he said. I didn't exactly dislike the feel of his arm around me or his hand massaging my scalp. It felt nice and protective.

Several minutes of silence passed, and I had nearly fallen asleep when Tony began to speak.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he started abruptly, and I jerked out of my sleepy haze to look up at him. I was about to speak, but he shushed me, asking that I simply listen.

"I get what you're thinking, I really do," he spoke, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from speaking. "You think you were weak and a burden. You blame yourself for your own injuries and maybe even Peter's. You're ashamed and guilty, aren't you?"

I pursed my lips, refusing to make eye contact. He'd nailed my feelings on the dot. How did he know what was going through my mind?

Well, so what if he knew?

"Yeah, I figured I was right," Tony continued, pulling me tighter against him. "You are such an idiot!" the mechanic suddenly exclaimed, his previously gentle hand gripping onto my hair tightly as he shook my head side to side.

"Arrgghh, let go, what gives!" I protested loudly as I slapped his hand away. "And, how dare you call me an idiot! You don't know a thing! You weren't there!" I snarled, suddenly feeling defensive and overly emotional.

Tony pulled away enough so that he could look me in the eyes, and I found myself stunned into silence by the haunted expression he wore. I had expected amusement, sympathy, irritation, or even guilt, but instead, there was an almost empty look to his eyes. It was painful, and I found myself at a loss for words.

I really was an idiot. Sometimes I forgot who my adoptive father was. He wasn't just Tony Stark, genius mechanic extraordinaire, but he was also Iron Man, a super-hero. I mean, there was a reason he'd gotten so pissed when I'd tried to weaponize my Iron Man suit. Tony didn't want me to be a super-hero. He didn't want me to be a part of this life, because he was well aware of the downside of the job.

"Sorry," I whispered after I'd regained my voice, cheeks reddening in embarrassment from having sounded like such a child.

Tony waved away my apology dismissively before facing me full on.

"I know what it's like to feel weak and useless—to feel guilty for needing to be saved, for others getting hurt, or worse, _killed_," Tony told me, his voice serious, yet soft.

"I was weak," I choked out, giving my guardian a desperate look. "I wasn't able to help at all, and if I could've, I would have begged for the torture to stop! I was utterly useless and a burden to Peter. I told him to get out without me, but he refused." I gritted my teeth as I recalled Peter's refusal to leave me. I'd held him back. He could've been hurt more because he'd been worried about me.

"I hate being so goddamn weak!" I hissed, gripping my hair tightly with both hands.

"Yeah, I hear you," I heard Tony respond compassionately, one of his large, calloused hands gently grabbing hold of mine.

I unclenched my fists and looked at him with tired yet determined eyes. "Will you train me to be the next Iron Man?" I pressed out of the blue.

There was a slight widening of Tony's eyes, but no emotion before he asked back, "Why?"

My eyebrows rose in surprise, honestly having expected him to outright tell me no.

"I want to be strong," I replied immediately. "I don't want anyone to ever be hurt because of me again whether because of who I am or because I wasn't able to save them. I see you, Peter, and the other Avengers go out and risk your lives all the time to help people, and I want to do the same."

"What if I said no? What would you do?" was Tony's next question, his eyes still not giving away what he was feeling or thinking.

"I-I…," I struggled to come up with what to say. What would I do? Would I defy Tony? No…maybe?

"I don't know," I eventually admitted honestly before adding, "but I can't promise you that I won't try and do something on my own. You've said before that I'm like you, so how would you respond in my situation?"

Tony's eyes closed as he let out a long breath, and when he opened them again, I finally saw some emotion. Sadness. That hurt, but there was also a second emotion that bolstered me: pride.

"I swear, if I wasn't still living one would think you were my reincarnation," the older man sighed heavily. "Alright," he gave in, and I was about to let out an exclamation of joy before his stern gaze stopped me.

"Before you celebrate," he quickly stated, "there are some conditions you're going to need to agree to. If you can't, I will find a way to stop you no matter how hard you try to defy me."

His eyes and expression were dead serious, and I had no doubt that he would be able to stop me. He was Tony Stark, after all.

I nodded to show acknowledgement of his words.

"The most important of my conditions is that you wait," he began, and my eyebrows rose before I frowned.

I asked the obvious question. "How long?"

"Until you've both graduated college and turned 25," he informed me, which caused my mouth to open in shock. Until I was 25?! He must be joking! That was ten whole years from now!

"I also want you to work with Pepper once you turn 21 for at least a year so that you can learn what it is to be CEO of Stark Industries," he continued. "It is my intention to have you succeed Pepper as CEO when she retires even if you take over the mantle of Iron Man. That will be your choice, however. If you didn't want to be CEO after that year, you could work whatever position in the company you wanted, or work wherever you want."

I felt even more shock, not at his condition so much as that he actually intended for me to be CEO of Stark Industries. I know the media had speculated this, but I honestly hadn't given it much thought.

"You'd really want _me _to take over your company?" I questioned in bewilderment. "Not someone more qualified or-or…," I trailed off with a bewildered shrug.

Tony actually snorted in amusement at my question, his serious expression turning into one of fond exasperation as he looked at me. "I would love for you to take over my company, and with some training, I definitely think you're more than qualified."

I couldn't keep a smile off my face as the gravity of his words hit me. He wanted _me_, Harley, the nobody, to run his company! I was deeply touched and flattered, so I immediately burst out, "I'd love to be CEO! I just can't believe you'd choose me!"

Tony's responding smile was full of affection as he flicked me in the forehead. "You're an idiot genius," he commented, and I immediately snapped back, "Takes one to know one."

He laughed before shrugging. "True."

"Anyhow," the genius continued more seriously, "those are my conditions for you if you want to take over Iron Man. College degree, work with Pepper for at least a year, and turn 25," he listed off. "Fulfill those and I'll make sure you're trained both physically and mentally for the life of a super-hero. You'll learn more about the Iron Man suit than you already know, so when the time comes you'll be ready to take over for me. Lord knows I can't do this forever. What do you say? Do we have an agreement?"

"Why wait until I'm 25?" I had to argue. "I'll agree to the degree, but why can't I just start once I have it?"

Tony looked at me with a bland look that basically said, 'do you think I'm stupid?'

"Harls," he replied, "I don't want you to be Iron Man. I want you to live a normal, happy life. I want to spare you the pain and trauma that comes with the hero life, but I can see your mind is made up. This is why I want you to try and live a normal life for at least a little while. I want you to see what kind of life you could lead and even the good you could do without becoming Iron Man. Stark Industries is an international company and you could change the world in so many more ways than by putting on a metal suit."

"Yet, that hasn't stopped you," I had to interject logically, and Tony gave a humorless grin before nodding once in acknowledgment.

"Which is why I'm offering you this deal," he told me. "A non-negotiable deal," he added, and the look in his eyes told me he was dead serious. There would be no negotiating his conditions. If I wanted to be the next Iron Man, then I would have to agree. I supposed ten years wasn't too long to ask if it meant I'd spend some of that time being trained.

"Okay, I agree," I declared.

Tony smiled, holding out a hand to shake mine, and while I shook his, it didn't escape my notice that his smile didn't reach his eyes. He really didn't want me doing this, but I couldn't let his concern for me stop me.

"Right, so now that you've agreed I don't want you bugging me all the time about training, nor do I want you putting yourself in danger needlessly prior to you taking over Iron Man. Understood?"

"I understand," I responded, excitement and satisfaction filling me.

Never again.

Never again would I be weak.

Never again would I be helpless.

I would be the protector. I would be the hero, and I would _never_ let someone I loved be harmed again!

It was at this moment that Pepper walked back in, a relieved yet curious look on her face as she took in the scene.

"What are you two shaking hands about?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm going to be the next Iron Man! Tony made a deal with me!" I expressed joyfully, all the while throwing Tony a wicked smirk as I knew he'd be in trouble with Pepper.

"Crap," Tony muttered before rushing to say, "Not until he's 25 at the earliest! I'll explain later, love, okay?" he outright pleaded with wide eyes.

Pepper's lips were pursed, displeasure seeping out of her pores, but she gave a curt nod of agreement nonetheless. Narrowed eyes softened immediately when they landed on me, and she sat herself next to me effectively squishing me between herself and Tony.

"I'm so glad you're doing better," she told me, wrapping her arms around me. I leaned into her hug, appreciating the comfort that only a mother could provide. I only allowed the hug to last for a few seconds, though, breaking apart as my teenage pride took over.

A doctor walked in at this point, introducing herself as Dr. Helen Cho. She looked me over asking how I was feeling and if I was in any pain before giving me a brief explanation of what my injuries had been. She didn't go into detail, but I didn't ask either. I'd been the one to suffer them, and I didn't really care to rehash every injury.

Next, she explained how I'd come to be healed so quickly and thoroughly by an invention of hers called a Cradle.

"That's why I don't have any scars or even feel sore," I remarked to which she nodded.

"Correct," she answered before asking me if I had any questions.

I shook my head, and she then let me know that she'd like to observe me for one more night before leaving.

Peter and May appeared not long after Dr. Cho left bringing with them hamburgers and shakes. The adults sat at the small table while Peter situated himself on the bed with me. We both ate silently, Peter easily eating three times as much as me. When we finished, we both stared at each other, managing to express concern and gratitude with our eyes.

"You were pretty awesome," I congratulated genuinely, and he raised an eyebrow before shaking his head and seriously responding, "No, I wasn't. I just sat there as you were tortured. For a hero, I was pretty useless, and I'm so sorry. I should've been able to help you. I should've been the one tortured."

My brow furrowed at his words, his comment about being useless hitting close to home as it was exactly what I felt.

"Funny you say that," I replied, "because I pretty much felt the same way. Not to mention, I felt like a burden. You couldn't escape because you were too worried about me."

Peter frowned, once more shaking his head. "I'm Spider man, though," he nearly hissed. "It's my job to save"—

"I didn't need you to save me," I interjected, my tone coming out harsher than intended, causing the kind-hearted teen to flinch. Flicking my eyes to the adults to see that they weren't listening, I took in a calming breath before speaking.

"Sorry," I apologized, "but I get that you're Spider-man, but you're also still a kid. You're not invincible, and you were put in a bad situation. Yeah, being tortured sucked, but honestly, I'm glad it was me rather than you. You're both stronger and faster than me, so if it'd come to us having to plan our own escape, it would've benefitted us both if you were in better health."

"Yeah, but…I just wish I could've helped you," he murmured sadly.

I gave him a light kick with my foot, and gave him an appreciative smile as I said, "I get how you feel, man, because I felt the same way. Hell, I still do."

Looking outraged, Peter quickly retorted, "That's ridiculous! You have nothing to be sorry about or feel ashamed about. You were so brave, more so than I probably could've been. You didn't see how bad you were, but you didn't even complain. You don't need to feel bad about anything."

"Neither do you," I argued just as firmly.

We stared each other down, both determined to make the other see reason.

"You boys aren't fighting are you?" a voice interrupted, and we both turned to see Tony staring at us with both worry and disapproval.

"Staring contest, which you just ruined, so thanks," I replied flippantly before turning back to Peter. He gave a sheepish smile before looking down.

"I guess we both feel guilty and inadequate," he remarked, and I quirked my lips into a half smile.

"Guess so," I agreed blandly.

"Well, at least let me thank you for helping me out in the fight," Peter then stated, and I frowned deeply.

"Dude, we got kidnapped, so no thanks necessary as I wasn't much help," I asserted with a roll of my eyes.

Peter's face was kind and genuine as he replied, "True, but I'm glad I wasn't alone. Having you there during the battle and kidnapping gave me confidence. Not that I'm glad you went through all that, but this was my first kidnapping and all, and it helped not being alone." The young hero shrugged, looking embarrassed by his admission.

I was rather dumbfounded by his words, so I only managed to stare. He was glad I was with him? I gave him confidence? Noticing his reddening face, I quickly shot the embarrassed teen a reassuring smile.

"Ditto," was all I said, echoing the same sentiment. Peter's shoulders seemed to sag with relief that I wasn't making fun while a big grin split on his face.

"Besides," I added with a sniff, "we're practically brothers, so we've gotta have each other's backs, right?"

Peter's answering expression was priceless as his eyes widened dramatically and his mouth dropped open. "Brothers?" he barely whispered, and I swore his eyes were shining.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" I asked rhetorically, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with all the sappiness. I hoped he wouldn't make a big deal about this.

The spider kid stared for a few moments longer before he gave me a larger smile than I thought possible as he nodded his head. "Yeah, brothers have each other's backs," he repeated, and I felt a warmth spread in me at how touched he seemed to be. I meant what I said, but I had no idea my words would affect him so much.

Our conversation lightened considerably after this, and Peter entertained me with tales of his spider-man escapades while I slowly began to nod off. I'd only been up a few hours, but I was exhausted. I eventually fell asleep, feeling rather content as I listened to my new family quietly converse with one another.

**Tony's POV**

I threw up into the toilet, doing my best to keep quiet enough not to wake up Harley and Pepper. This was my third night that I'd ended up in this same position, and I was already over it. Flushing the toilet, I walked over to the sink, grimacing at my pale, sweaty face. I looked downright sickly. Turning the faucet on, I vigorously rubbed my face, both cleaning off the sweat and adding some color to my cheeks.

Ever since Harley and Peter had been rescued my dreams had been plagued with nightmarish visions of them: bloodied, scared, screaming, and dying. Harley figured prominently because he'd looked near death when we'd found him. I gagged into the sink as I recalled his screams of pain and his blood-soaked clothes.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He never should've had to suffer through something like that. He'd already suffered enough!

Life wasn't fair, I knew that, but sometimes it seemed as certain people got more than their share, like Harley and Peter.

I couldn't protect them. I was Tony freaking Stark, one of the most powerful men in the world, and I couldn't protect the kids I considered to be my sons.

I more than empathized with Harley's feelings of uselessness, which was why I'd given in to his desire to be Iron Man. I truly hoped, though, that by the time he was 25 he'd choose to give up that desire, realizing that he could be a hero without flying around a suit of armor and fighting bad guys. He didn't need to risk his life like I did, and Peter did.

If I could convince Peter to give up the hero business I would, but I knew his heart was all in. Spider-man defined him as Iron Man defined me. Luckily, Harley didn't already have a hero persona. Unluckily, however, he was adopted by Iron Man.

So goddamn unfair.

I let out a heavy sigh and silently made my way back into the hospital room, eyes softening as I looked upon the sleeping forms of my fiancé and son. Harley had had a nightmare about an hour ago, finally falling asleep in Pepper's arms. I was happy that he'd allowed her to comfort him tonight because I knew as soon as he gained some semblance of control he'd go back to holding everything in. I couldn't allow that to happen.

But, how could I get him to open up? I doubted I could get him to talk to me as I'd already been unsuccessful in getting him to talk about the two months prior to his living with me.

I needed to get him into therapy. I could force him to go, but I wouldn't be able to force him to talk. I could only hope the therapist I chose would be experienced enough to eventually get him to open up.

I should get Peter into therapy as well. He may have fared better in the kidnapping, but I knew he felt a lot of guilt over being unable to protect Harley. The longer he was a hero, though, the more guilt he'd end up facing. One day he would fail at saving someone, and while I hoped that would never happen, it was inevitable in our line of work.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the onset of a headache. I'd be getting no more sleep tonight. Groaning softly, I settled down into an uncomfortable chair and kept a watchful eye on my small family.


End file.
